


Extraordinary

by bluestockng



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst and Romance, Drug Use, F/F, Heavy Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, this is the darkest timeline, trigger warning drug and alcohol abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 28
Words: 68,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestockng/pseuds/bluestockng
Summary: What if Jyn walked away from Scarif?  What if the rebellion excommunicated her?  What if Cassian Andor let her escape?Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble theRogue Onecrew.  But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?“In a kinder universe, she would have walked away from Scarif.  I cannot imagine who she would have become, but I think she would have been extraordinary.”





	1. A Lost Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three years apart, Cassian finally locates Jyn again. The woman he finds, however, changed since their mission on Scarif.

_Well I'll be damned_  
_Here comes your ghost again_  
_But that's not unusual_  
_It's just that the moon is full_  
_And you happened to call_  
_And here I sit_  
_Hearing a voice I'd known_  
_A couple of light years ago_  
_Heading straight for a fall_  
_~Diamonds and Rust (Joan Baez)_

Cassian Andor moved like a man on a mission. Cautiously, he avoided the ominous-looking crowds in the market and opted for sneaking, ducking behind market stalls and disappearing into alleyways. He ignored the come-ons shouted at him by peddling traders and glassy-eyed hookers on corners alike. There was only one woman in the world whom he wanted; he just hoped the Intel he received was still viable.  
A woman like Jyn Erso didn’t stay in one spot for long, he quickly discovered. He’d tracked her for nearly a year as she shed identities and associations as she needed. Now, finally, he thought he might actually have found her. It had taken several of his been informants, paid more credits than usual, and if he was honest—more than a little blood—to track her to a seedy bar on the moon of Cheyenne in the Cereen system. 

His contacts told him to expect a rough crowd, who made their daily bread hand-over-fist. The kind of place Jyn Erso would fit in perfectly. Known for its spice trafficking, Cheyenne smugglers used it as a transfer point in the outer rim, encouraged by the moon’s local gangster and crime syndicate. They were so far out that the Empire didn’t care enough to crack down on the trade. The route sprawled from Kessel to Cheyenne to Coruscant, leaving a trail of death and decay in its wake. But still, the money padded the pockets of brigands and Imperials alike and nobody asked questions. 

He tightened the balaclava over his nose and mouth to keep out the dusty desert air and the stench of filthy bodies. Despite the late hour, the temperature climbed well above thirty-seven standard degrees. The fabric of his blue linen shirt clung to his skin under his green field jacket, he could feel beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. The heat was oppressive, nearly smothering him. How could she survive on this planet? Of all the places, why here? But then, she’d always been adaptable. 

He only hoped that the passage of time—nearly three years, he reminded himself—would have wiped away some of her resentment and bitterness. Knowing her, it wouldn’t be nearly enough time. She might not even want to see him and he wasn’t sure he would blame her for it. Their parting had not been pleasant. He shook off those thoughts. He’d cross that bridge if he reached it. He had to try, at least.  
He heard the noise from the cantina before he could even say it. Places like this never closed. Drifters, killers, and con men all found port on Mos Reimly and provided around-the-clock revenue and entertainment. Booze, women, loud music, and fights comprised the typical bill of fare. He had no love for venues like this, but he knew that he could fit in well. These days, he didn’t feel much better about himself than the regular clientele, his new job promotion aside. 

Lights shone out of the windows and doors; changing rapidly from green to pink to turquoise to red. The band played at full volume, some old song that everyone knew but despised. He’d need to blend in with the crowd, order a strong drink—a double, smoke a cigarette, and get a feel for the place. It had been years since he’d needed to do intelligence gathering with his own boots on the ground, anymore he’d just send his agents into the field. This mission, however, was too important to pass up.  
The Alliance needed Jyn Erso and so did he.

As fate would have it, Cassian didn’t need to expend much effort in finding Jyn Erso. In true Jyn fashion, she made her presence known. Cassian had settled at a round table in the corner that cast him in shadow, taking modest sips of a fiery red liquor, when he heard the beginnings of a fight breaking out across the bar. At first, he didn’t move to investigate. On a good night, one could expect at least five fights and a death or two in bars like this. 

He heard the shouts but continued brooding. It took him a moment to realize that one of the voices sounded distinctly _feminine_. He craned his neck to see around the small mob that formed. Unfortunately, a Twi’lek woman approached him boldly and placed her hands on his chest, futilely trying to pique his interest. She leaned in close, maximizing the effect of her bare chest. She stunk of strangers’ cologne and cigarettes, whiskey hung heavy on her breath as she whispered breathlessly into his ear:

“What are you drinking tonight, darlin’?”

“Not you.”

He shoved past her, leaving her indignant on the floor. Now, he intently moved towards the noises of the impending brawl. Men and women began taking bets on the odds and Cassian wryly thought of Kaytoo. He elbowed a scrawny pig-nosed creature out of the way, forcing his way closer to the action. Three large Quarren thugs, dressed in leather with face tentacles undulating, advanced upon a petite woman who brashly stood her ground.  
His breath caught in his throat. The air reeked of stale tobacco and debauchery. The strobing light cast her in a multitude of colors. Her scarf obscured much of her face. But still, he knew it was Jyn. Her fingers flexed dangerously near the holster on her hip, as if she carefully judged whether or not she should go for her blaster or for her truncheons.

One of the brutes jumped forward to engage her. Jyn Erso’s reflexes were faster. Three years on the run, apparently, had only improved her skills. She drew her truncheons fluidly and wielded them expertly: she brought them down hard on the Quarren's skull which _crunched_ and gave way sickeningly in response. As he staggered, broken and bloody and half-dead, she landed a ruthless succession of blows to his face, damaging his tentacles. He didn’t even have time to spit blood and teeth before she sent him flying into the bar, headfirst. He righted himself for a moment, long enough to stagger a pace, before collapsing upon the floor. The dead man’s buddies both roared in anger and one rushed her. She grinned. Jyn Erso was done playing. So fast as to be nearly invisible, she drew her blaster and fired a precise shot to the closest thug. He too crumpled to the ground. The third, perhaps smarter than his compatriots, looked on in terror at the woman who stood before him.

“You want to end up like them?” She spat, gesturing at the dead men in the dust.

He stammered incoherently, eyes wide with fear. She raised her voice, but she needn’t have bothered. The band had stopped playing, and the onlookers fell silent.

“No? Then fucking go and maybe I won’t track you down and do you in, too. Tell your boss we’re square or I’ll come for her, next.”

The man turned tailed and ran, not even sparing a glance for his dead friends. Jyn Erso stepped over the body blocking her path and took her place at the bar. In a moment, the cantina returned to its usual noise and clamor. Bills and coins passed hands and the patrons settled in like snakes in the reeds for the next good fight. She rapped upon the bar top, ignoring the death sputters of the man near her feet. The bartender filled her glass with cheap whiskey.

Cassian hung back for a moment, letting the adrenaline of a fight wear off before he dared approach her. Cautiously, he moved forward, half expecting her to whip out her blaster and aim it in his direction. He probably deserved it. In another time, he might’ve even welcomed it.

Now that he was closer, he could see her plainly. She wore her hair down and her lips were a blood-red smear. She dressed provocatively, masculine yet sexual: black trousers worn grey by dust and wear, a tattered scarf hanging about her scrawny shoulders, yellow shirt—had it once been his?—unbuttoned nearly halfway, as if defiantly daring a stupid man to approach and lay hands on her. On first inspection, her eyes looked reflective, glazed by drink. He knew her better than that, however, and could tell that despite the inebriation she remained as alert and on-edge as ever. Her recent fight proved that. 

She clutched her glass on the bartop as if it were all that mattered in the world to her. Seeing the state of her, that might be the case. She looked like Ophelia, drowning slowly in her sorrows. Boldly, he pulled out the stool next to her and sat down. He kept his face titled away from her, hoping the balaclava would hide his features a moment longer. He should’ve known better. 

“How long have you been watching me, Cassian?”

He hid his surprise well. Pulling away the balaclava, he felt no need to hide anymore. 

“Jyn, I know you can’t be happy to see me…”

“You’re right about that.”

“Could you hear me out?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I? You wouldn’t be here if the Alliance didn’t need me for something.”

She looked weary, as if she’d suddenly run out steam. Resting her elbows against the bar, she grudgingly moved closer.

“Well, you’re right about that. The Alliance needs you.”

She laughed derisively. In a time gone by, her voice sounded like the sweetest music to Cassian. Now, it sounded pitiless and hollow from disuse. Her demeanor became flinty, cold as stone. 

“The Alliance took from me what they wanted and they threw me away like trash. I fought your damned war, Captain. Now let me die as I please.”

“Jyn, this isn’t where you belong.”

He’d hoped to avoid emotional bargains right away, but he let his feelings get in the way.

That harsh, lifeless laugh cracked like a whip again.

“What do you want me to say, Cassian? ‘Fella done me wrong?’ Why do men like you always think you have to save the poor girls from the dens of iniquity? Maybe this is where I want to be?”

Her words, of course, were based in truth. Some part of Jyn’s very nature had always been destructive. He detected the self-loathing in her voice and he could smell something cloying and revoltingly sweet on her breath. 

“This isn’t the Jyn that I knew. You gave this life up, remember?”

He shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t going poorly, exactly. He was still alive. But Jyn Erso had changed. She’d always been tough, callous, and reckless. This new life, however, battered her into a woman he could barely recognize nor understand.

“And then that life turned on me. I fell back into my old ways. Don’t act surprised. I never pretended to be a romantic hero. Neither of us did.”

She faced him now: her skin looked clammy, a sheen of sweat covering her face. Heavy, dark bags hung under her eyes. When had she last slept? His eyes focused on her arms. She quickly rolled down her sleeves, but he saw the track marks. Before, she’d never been one to abuse drugs. Her taste in bad habits, it would seem, expanded in scope during her absence. 

“What happened to Bodhi? You travelled together for a while.”

She surveyed him as if considering if she should lie or tell the truth. Shrugging, she must have decided on truth.

“Yeah, we did. He left, two years back. He had enough of running. He’d had enough of me almost getting him killed every day.” Surprisingly, she didn’t sound hostile towards Bodhi. Mostly, she just seemed resigned.  
What had he gotten himself into? Was this even the same woman he’d known? If Bodhi couldn’t stand her anymore, was she a lost cause?

While he pondered her state, she drank the last of her glass. Setting down a few coins roughly, she stepped away, only to tread on a body. She appraised it as if she forgot that it had been there because of her. She spoke so quietly that he needed to lean in closer to hear her words.

“I wish like hell I’d never met you.”

Just as she had three years before, she turned away, leaving him alone and empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want, please feel free to follow me @bluestockng on tumblr where I reblog rebelcaptain religiously and take part in #therebelcaptainnetwork.


	2. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn leaves Cassian at the cantina, only to get herself into danger. Will Cassian find her in time?
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_Lately I'm not feeling like myself_  
_When I look into the glass, I see someone else_  
_I hardly recognize this face I wear_  
_When I stare into her eyes, I see no one there_  
_Lately I'm not feeling like myself_  
_Lately I've been losing all my time_  
_All that mattered to me slipped my mind_  
_Every time I hit another town,_  
_Strangers appear to lock me down_  
_Lately I've been losing all my time_  
_~Lately (Lera Lyn)_

Jyn Erso slunk out of the cantina, ignoring the obnoxious music and bright flashing lights. In the deepest part of her body, she’d always known that she’d see Cassian again someday. She wished it could have been anywhere but Cheyenne. But alas, that part of her that might’ve still cared for him belonged to a ghost life she’d barely known. The ghost life that he’d destroyed. Anger mingled with regret and she found herself craving a taste of spice. She couldn’t drink away their memories together, but she could numb the ache of guilt.

Most days, Jyn felt like a squatter in her own mind. In the years since she left Cassian behind, she’d fallen into a life of degradation. She avoided her reflection; the binge drinking, drugs, and nameless strangers with which she filled her nights took their toll. This wasn’t Jyn Erso: this was Alydra Alphard, gambler and drifter. She lived in constant motion: conning and cheating and stealing. Unlike her days as Liana Hallik, however, she no longer held her own survival in particularly high regard.

Some months ago—a drunk man, eager for her body and not much else—approached her at a bar, her first night on Cheyenne. He’d asked for her name but silenced her without waiting for a response (as if she’d give it). Then, he suggested that they give each other names for the night. He’d given her “Alydra”, she’d given him “Cassian.” She hated that man, but she’d fucked him anyway. In the end, she’d kept the name along with his wallet.

In the morning, she’d need to sober up and find a way off this rock. If Cassian had found her, there was no telling who else could be on her trail. She’d betrayed too many people to feel safe in the same spot too long, and she’d played this moon out anyway. Until the dawn, however, she’d remain Alydra Alphard.

Jyn lost herself and found Alydra in the prick of a needle or the taste of spice on her tongue. Alydra took over, took greater risks, reached greater highs, fell to greater depths. Jyn got her fix in an alleyway, from a stranger hawking the “purest” spice on all of Cheyenne. She knew his claims were shit, but she didn’t much care. At the moment, she wanted to dull her senses and disappear back into the anonymity of Alydra. It was safer to be Alydra than Jyn. If she was Jyn, she’d have to think about what it meant for Cassian to come back, asking for her help. She couldn’t handle that. So, she chose the spice.

Jyn didn’t know when she’d become addicted, she only knew that it made her days and nights easier. It helped her sleep. Sometimes, it _almost_ helped her forget. As the peddler trundled off to tempt his next mark, she tapped a crimson-powder covered finger to her lips. Immediately, the world around her became duller, more pleasant, and rosier. Looking down at her hands, she felt oddly detached and light, as if she floated. 

As she considered her hands, however, she realized that she could feel sharp sensations, like pinpricks, moving up her legs, faster and faster. That was unusual, but not necessarily cause for concern, she told herself. Most dealers cut pure spice with derivatives like glitterstim if you were lucky, ryll if you were weren’t.

Usually, she could still fight capably even when high. This time, however, she felt sluggish and lethargic. Putting one foot in front of the other took great effort, she found herself stumbling and tripping. Her vision, once rosy, grew dark and cloudy. She couldn’t think straight anymore, she couldn’t be sure where she was. 

_Fucking idiot._

If that thug from earlier wanted some revenge and found her in this state, she’d have a difficult time fighting him off. She’d be dead in a minute. The best she could do was to stick to the shadows, avoid the market, and hope she’d wander back to her flat. Alydra survived worst nights than this.

  


Cassian, not usually given to leaving missions undone, decided to sleep in his ship for the night and try to find Jyn again in the morning. At the moment, she’d likely be in no state to get off the planet, even if she had access to a ship or contacts. Anyway, the woman he’d met in the bar didn’t seem like the type to have many friends who might help her out in a pinch. For now, he could rest knowing that she couldn’t vanish into the night.

It would be a long walk back; he’d landed out in the sand hills several clicks out. The streets had quieted in the dwindling hours of the night. The noise of the bar continued, carried on the dusty night breeze. Cassian was glad to be away from the bar, it reminded him too much of old missions and old losses. He’d left too many men behind to count, but squalid port towns always brought the old memories back. In the evening, when the memories came on too strong, he’d make a strong drink and go looking for women. With his looks and brooding persona, it wasn’t hard to find them.

Tonight, however, women were far from his mind. Instead, thoughts of Jyn and how much she’d changed haunted his mind. What had happened to her in the years since they’d parted? Nothing good, he knew. The last time he’d seen her, she’d snuck into his quarters late at night. She didn’t bother to tell him that she was planning to break Bodhi out of the Alliance’s holding cells, but she hadn’t needed to. She’d climbed into his bed and they’d fucked as if it was their last night on earth. After it was over, she’d left him without saying a word. 

Vainly, he’d promised himself that he would find her again when the time was right. If he had to search every star system, he would find her again. She disappeared as suddenly as she arrived. And when he heard the emergency sirens wailing an hour later heralding her escape, whispered her name to the night. 

If he’d been a stronger man then, maybe all of this could have been avoided. If he’d just left the Alliance behind, or tried harder to convince Draven of Jyn and Bodhi’s necessity, the story could have played out differently. But, he hadn’t. He chose not to run away with Jyn, he chose to stay on with the Alliance, he chose not to stand up to Draven when he’s imprisoned Bodhi and sent Jyn away. Long before she left, Jyn told him to leave with her. He’s made his choice, however, and for years he’d had to live with the consequences. He must have been insane for expecting her to come back.

He hadn’t been lying when he said they needed her: the Alliance was in dire straits. Han Solo had been captured and presumed killed, Leia and Luke were barely holding the Rebellion together. With Draven recently killed and Mon Mothma gone for years, the old guard of the rebellion crumbled into chaos. The brief unity they enjoyed after the destruction of the death star had been marred by the loss of Mon Mothma and while many people stepped forward to fill the power vacuum, they all had their own agendas. 

Cassian took over Draven’s position, grateful to get out of the field. Cassian reminded himself that an agent’s chance of surviving twenty covert operations hovered around twenty-three percent. How low did that number drop when partnered with Jyn Erso? Cassian had survived nearly a hundred missions. Now, he lived on borrowed time. 

A drunkard stumbled down the street in Cassian’s direction. Cassian ducked into the shadows: it was better to avoid confrontation, even if he outclassed the potential opponent. As he watched the man pass, his eyes fell upon the alleyway directly across the street. A streetlamp barely cast enough light for a figure, slumped against the brick wall, to be made visible. At first, he shrugged it off. On a moon like this, people died anonymously in the streets all the time. Still, even as he walked away, some force compelled him to take a second look.

Nearer now, he could see Jyn crumpled in the dirt. In an instant, he cleared the distance to her. She stirred feebly, as if she still felt her drive to fight. Her fingers were stained red, her face was pale and clammy. He tried to help her stand, but her legs could not bare her own weight for long. She rocked on her feet as waves of vertigo rolled over her body. Her speech sounded garbled as if her tongue was made of lead. He knew the symptoms well enough. If he couldn’t get her somewhere safe soon, she could die of an overdose of spice, if he wasn’t mistaken.

When he took her in his arms, her head lolled onto his shoulder. She whispered his name in a barely audible, weak voice “Cassian?”

“It’s me,” he tried to keep his voice calm, “Where do you live?”

“Flat above the central port, blue building. Third floor, first room.” 

He nearly had to press his ear to her lips in order to hear her properly. This pronouncement dragged out what little strength remained to her. Closing her eyes, she wanly clutched his shirt in her hand, for comfort or out of habit he couldn’t be sure. She let her vulnerability show: a rare thing for Jyn Erso. Seeing him again must have unhinged something inside of her, opening the lid on the bunker she had crafted in her mind for all the unpleasant things she needed to store away. When they’d first met, he’d been the one to keep a closed lid on his inner self. She’d released him. Now, he might need to return the favor. Moving mutely, he carried her home. 

As if her flat could be called a home. With a twinge of pain, he realized the utter squalor in which she lived. Most of the windows on the street had been boarded up, as far he could tell she was the only person living in the entire building. Her floor had been covered in various detritus of unknown origin under layer upon layer of dust and dirt. He placed her on the stained cot that sat in the center of the room, beneath the only window.

He knew the procedure well enough: Cassian had saved a few informants from overdoses over the years. Most had thanked him profusely afterward, but he’d never told them he only did it because he needed their information. This time, however, his reasons were far more magnanimous. He kept a poison antidote pill next to his lullaby pill in his personal transponder. He looked around desperately for some liquid to help her wash down the medicine. Unfortunately, all he could find was a half-finished bottle of dark, cheap rum. 

Deciding that it would have to do, he propped Jyn up against his shoulder and placed the pill in her mouth. He poured a small amount of the rum down her throat, but she sputtered and spit it out all over his jacket. Even now, she had to be defiant. 

Struck by an idea, he held her close and whispered in her ear, hoping that she’d let herself hear him.

“Jyn, it’s me. I need you to drink this for me, please? You’re very sick and I’m trying to help you get better.”

He kept his tone level, but failed to keep all notes of urgency at bay. She made a noise which might have been a grunt of agreement. Again, he put the pill on her tongue and filled her mouth with rum. Even as she choked and gagged, she forced herself to swallow through the drug’s haze. He took a mound of old mouldy clothes and cloth to make a pillow for her to keep her head elevated. Turning her on her side, he sat back for what would be the longest night of his life. 

Eventually, he found a rag and a canteen of water in the mess of her flat. He wet the rag and put it on her brow to calm the detox fever. As her body shook with tremors, he kept guarding her. Occasionally, he considered the cracked and broken window, looking out to the brilliant midnight moon that shone overhead. 

In the third hour, she began to hallucinate. She screamed for her father and her mother and Saw Gerrera. She screamed for people whose names were unfamiliar to Cassian. In the fifth hour, she began to claw at her arms and shriek as if she could feel some invisible bug crawling beneath her skin. He gripped her arms and held them tight, silently hating himself for hurting her like this. All of this, every bit of it, was his fault for not fighting harder for her. In his guilt and shame, he wished that he could take the pain from her and suffer it himself. In the sixth hour, with the break of morning, she finally quieted in his arms. Still, he cradled her. Only after she had slept soundly for an hour did he dare move away from her.  


She was out of danger, but he knew the worst was yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the next chapter on Sunday. I hope you enjoyed, even though the subject matter is dark. Don't worry: you'll find more about why Jyn left the rebellion in the next chapter!
> 
> Follow me @bluestockng on tumblr, where I post my stories, reblog rebelcaptain and spiratassassin content, and do challenges for #therebelcaptainnetwork and #rebelcaptainprompts!


	3. Constellations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn recovers while Cassian contemplates their future and their past.
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_Stumbling over you, caught in the firing line_  
_There's nothing I wouldn't do to turn back the hands of time_  
_Stumbling over you, caught in the firing line_  
_There's nothing I wouldn't do to leave it all behind_  
_Crossing my fingers and crossing the lines_  
_Knew you were too good to be true_  
_I can see perfectly from the corner of my eye_  
_I never belonged to you_  
_~Stumbling Over You (Serena Ryder)_

Now, with early daylight streaming in through the window, he could survey the room properly. Fatigue endangered his alertness, but he ignored it as he did all of his problems. His first priority was finding her food, preferably without leaving the questionable sanctuary of her abandoned flat. He turned over scraps of cigarette wrappings, torn away reward posters, and sundry bits of blasters and other contraband in his search. On her floor, partially obscured by a threadbare duffel bag, Cassian found a man’s forgotten belt

A feeling of deep betrayal washed over his body. For a moment, he was lost in its depths. They hadn’t been together in years. They hadn’t been together in years. Clearly, they’d moved on to other people. Or they’d tried. He’d found plenty of women in cantinas and bars, but none to last more than one night and none who could fuck him the way she had. Cassian gently unballed his fist.

For a while after Scarif, they pretended that their relationship was only about the sex, but they both knew the truth. They’d been desperate to feel alive, he could remember the feeling even now even if he couldn’t feel the love itself anymore. Other women left him worthless and cold, but still he longed for the warmth of another person. He knew he’d never find it again with somebody else. Now he thought he might never find it again with her, either. 

He watched her closely, timing the rise and fall of her chest and noting the absence of color in her deathly white face. When finally he believed her to be out of danger, he ventured out to procure food from the market. How long had it been since she had eaten a proper meal? By the looks of it, she’d been living off cheap liquor and stale scraps for quite a while. In the early hours of the afternoon, he was able to find edible-looking mushrooms, some indiscriminate creature fried wriggling in an alien’s skillet, and a chunk of brown bread to share.

In the daylight, it became obvious to Cassian that this place was stuck in some backward time: the furnishings and architecture smacked of a more rustic time, with buildings made of wood and gambling halls on every corner. Most of the people here seemed to ride horses and carry blasters half a century out of date. He’d heard rumor of such places, of course, even before his informant informed him. On some desolate moons, local warlords subjugated their underlings and forced everyone to play their sick, twisted fantasy games. 

Unfortunately, Cassian knew that his attire must stand out in a crowd. Most of the locals here wore slouching hats and leather, not field jackets and fatigues. He hoped that the constant turnover of strangers, stragglers, and smugglers in the space port would hide him from suspicion. Ideally, they’d think him yet another lost soul; adrift and ready to die.

While waiting for Jyn, Cassian ate his portion of the food. Sure, he was considerably shorter on credits—somehow, these backwards moons always grifted you even harder than the Deep Core—but his stomach felt full. He operated poorly while hungry, and if he wanted to handle Jyn, he’d need all of his strength. 

 

The first thing Jyn knew upon awakening was that her head ached unlike anything she’d felt before; the after-effects of the drugs she’d taken pounded a relentless tattoo behind her temples, causing her eyes to water painfully. The second thing Jyn knew upon awakening was that Cassian Andor was nearby.

She recognized the scent of him, familiar and comfortable: musk mingling with sweat and a touch of oil, mixing with dust and just the vaguest hint of that awful cologne she’d given him for his birthday. Back when there was a reason to celebrate such things. 

Jyn Erso hopped from planet to planet, crime to crime, name to name, trying desperately to forget him. She didn’t want to remember his scent linger in the air, she didn’t want to deal with what it had meant. What it still could mean. What she didn’t want it to be. Blinking, she propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Why did you do it?

Cassian, on his knees across the cramped room from her, vainly attempting to organize her things, kept his back turned, waiting for the sword to fall. Better to send him away now, as he’d sent her away all those years ago. Better to break him now, before he tried to remind her of the reasons he might want her back. Some wounds shouldn’t heal. They were lessons, painful to be sure, but necessary. He taught "her that every man abandons her in the end.

“Would you rather I leave you to die in the alley, alone?”

She’d known that whatever she’d taken last night had been dangerous, she could feel it in the pain in her head and the revolting aftertaste that clung to her tongue like black tar. Jyn didn’t recall a thing after getting her fix; in that, Cassian had the advantage. Still, she had their painfully brief yet passionate history to turn against him. They could read each other like open books, yet everything still fell apart.

“You know that isn’t what I meant. Why did you let me go?” 

Her voice sounded fragile, so unlike the woman she’d once been. She hadn’t felt like that woman in a long time, now it was just Alydra who inhabited Jyn Erso’s shell of a body. Jyn wanted to rattle him, to shake him, to make him feel some part of the betrayal and the fear and the emptiness inside of her. Could she ever fill it again?

“The Alliance needed me,” the excuse sounded hollow, even to Cassian, who had once been an expert liar, especially to himself.

“ _Bullshit._ You were too much of a coward to do the right fucking thing. You could’ve left it all behind, but you didn’t. Bodhi was a necessary sacrifice. I was a necessary scapegoat. The moment I became inconvenient, you were all too eager to please Draven and dump me!”

“Don’t put this all on me,” Cassian whispered dangerously, turning to her for the first time, “I risked a hell of a lot to keep you out of _prison_ after what you did. It was a miracle they didn’t execute you.”  
He’d risen to his feet, towering above her. Without thinking, she shot to her feet as well.

“ _Lucky?_ So that’s what they call it in Rebel Intelligence? “Here, Jyn. You take a risk to save someone, because his superiors are sending him to his certain death with no backup, and things don’t go as planned, so we’re going to banish you and imprison your friends.” How is that a fucking miracle?”

Her chest rose and fell heavily, and the ruddy color returned to her cheeks. Even so, she was unsteady on her feet.

“It’s not “things didn’t go as planned”, Jyn. Your actions killed Mon Mothma. The Alliance hasn’t been the same since. Without her leadership, everything fell apart. The Empire killed Draven—” 

Jyn didn’t spare a pity for Davits Draven. The man had never liked her and had tried to make her life a living hell. Cassian had given him everything, and Draven still thought them both expendable. 

“The Alliance is better off without him. What is it, exactly, that the Alliance wants from me?” Her nostrils flared, maybe she’d retained some of that old Jyn fire after all. She fought back her dizziness and stood her ground. 

“They want all of us back. It’s been three years, most of the people who disapproved of you are long dead. They sent me out to recruit you all. There are still some people in the Alliance who remember what we did on Scarif. I think they’re hoping for something similar.”

Jyn sniggered.

“Your Alliance and its fucking miracles can hang.”

“The Alliance is almost dead, Jyn. We haven’t had a victory in a long time. The leaders are dead, there’s almost nobody left. Some of the others, the ones that blew up the Death Star? One of them is gone, they told us he’s been frozen in carbonite but he might as well be dead. Leia is doing her best, but, without the proper support, most of her ideas failed and only lost us more pilots.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have followed a princess into battle, then.”

“She asked for you, personally, Jyn. It’s a question of choice. If you stay here, you will overdoes again on spice. I won’t be there to save you the next time. You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last, it’s been happening more often these days. You’re only alive right now because I forced your body into withdrawal. How would you like to die? Here, covered in rags and filth, or with the Alliance?”

“With _you_ , you mean?”

Despite the current state of Jyn’s mind and body, she’d calculated her attack masterfully. Cassian flinched.

“Maybe you should have let me die.”

Jyn watched him furrow him brow, watched the gears and wires click behind those dark eyes. The only thing she’d ever been good at in this world was causing pain. Why did he keep coming back? Couldn’t he see she didn’t want him anymore?

“I told you once, that I couldn’t live with myself if I walked away. I thought that was a lie, I thought that I could live with it, but I couldn’t. Now I’m here, asking you to come back. Come back, do it to save yourself, if not the rebellion.”

“Don’t you see that they would have let us die? You gave them your life, your childhood, your dignity. What did they give you back? _A broken promise for a better galaxy_. Killing and spying and blowing shit up doesn’t unfuck the universe, it just makes it worse for people like me. Don’t you realize that we didn’t matter at all?”

She stood there, shaking from her shoulders to her feet. Staying on her feet took all the strength she’d stored in her body, but she wouldn’t run this time. Cassian’s eyes softened. How dare he? How dare he soften when she wanted to rage and break him the way that he’d broken her?

“You matter to me.”

From a hidden pocket in his jacket, he pulled her mother’s Kyber crystal. She’d left it with him when she’d left. At the time, it had seemed like a final fuck you. She wanted him to think that the Jyn Erso he knew was gone. Now, it gave him more ammunition against her: it showed her that he cared. 

Confusion, far more powerful than any drug, filled Jyn’s head. She didn’t feel love, she didn’t feel hate. But for the first time, she felt _something_. Before he could stop her or argue, Jyn crossed the room and grabbed Cassian Andor in a tight embrace. Hungrily, she took her mouth with his. She didn’t pretend to be gentle; she showed him the urgency of her need.

Bewildered, afraid, he resolved to kiss her lightly, then push her away. She was sick, she was still in recovery, she was addicted to spice, she needed medical care, not a lover. He tried to reason with himself: Jyn was always out for herself, it would only get worse with drugs involved, this would be dangerous to them both…

But the moment he tasted her, Cassian couldn’t control himself any longer. She should have run, he should have turned away. But he stayed rooted to the spot, as if held in place by invisible hands. Call it weakness, call it coming home. He kissed her with the fervor of a man dying of starvation. 

He knew they shouldn’t do this, even as he let her push him onto the mattress. He knew they shouldn’t do this, even as she tore off her shirt and pulled him down upon her bare skin. The feel of her—not of a stranger with her face—drove him mad. He yearned for her in every way. He’d spent three years as a vagabond, never returning home until now. His hands roved over her body, urging her to join him in some unearthly bower. He found the fire he’d missed between her legs.

Her body awoke to his touch, to the sound of his panting breath on her neck, to the spinning of the room. All she’d kept suppressed with liquor and spice escaped; she couldn’t let the numbness return. Desperate, as if she feared she’d lose him, Jyn held onto him so tightly that her nails scratched his skin as she searched for a way to hold him closely enough to be satisfied. 

They untethered their minds from the binding ropes of uncertainty. The restraints which had once bound them disappeared the moment they’d kiss. After that, the sheer velocity of their gravity carried them forward. They didn’t forget the years apart—they couldn’t. But, they chose to ignore all that might keep them apart. All that mattered now was his hands on her body and the small noises she made as Cassian thrust his hips against her. 

He knew they shouldn’t do this, but if they died tomorrow, he’d die knowing he’d loved her one last time. She might destroy him, but he willingly followed her into the flames.

 

Always, it took them ages to leave the bed and nothing had changed. By the time they’d fallen back against the rags, confused but sated for now, the sun began to set outside the window, casting the tiny room and its occupants in a wash of gold and crimson light. 

They didn’t exchange words but she didn’t ignore him, either. Cassian took it as a good sign that she didn’t kick him out immediately. She might’ve been too sleepy: her eyes flickered shut with a low sigh. Before he could reach out to her, however, she turned away from him onto her side. Her arm stretched out beside her, falling off the edge of the bed. Cassian wondered if she was considering the pinprick scars on her arms.

“This doesn’t mean that I love you.”

“I know.”

After the sun disappeared behind the dunes, the only light in the room emanated from the shouldering ember of Cassian’s cigarette. He let it dangle precariously from his lips, relishing the bitter taste of Jyn and tobacco on his tongue. Jyn Erso was a sinful vice. 

Blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling, he needed her again. His desire for her burned underneath his skin like a fever, made worse by the stifling heat of the room itself. Much to his silent delight, Jyn had yet to redress herself. Spurred on by the darkness, he hovered closer to her. He felt her tense, as if she dreaded the moment of contact. 

He couldn’t see them clearly in the dark, but he remembered the placement of each of the freckles upon her back. Placing the cigarette between his teeth, he traced constellations upon her skin with the edge of his fingernail. She shivered at the sensation. 

 

Before, they’d become lovers hastily. Somewhere between the ashes of Jedha and the beaches of Scarif they’d found a way to love each other. But in that brief interlude before she left, they hadn’t learned each other’s bodies perfectly. True, some details stayed fast in their minds: Jyn’s freckles, Cassian’s birthmark. But others, the intimate details passed between lovers, had never been learned or had been lost to time. Their couplings had always been too urgent, too fast, and too wild to be contained or committed to memory. All of it blurred together. But now? Entangled together, Cassian could forget that he needed to check in with the Base. Jyn could forget that she had a drop to make. Instead, they spent their time languidly: smoking and drinking and fucking. The hours passed into days. 

Jyn, though showing signs of improvement physically, Cassian was hesitant to leave her alone, lest she sneak out to find a dealer or find a stash she’d hidden under a floorboard. If he wanted to present her to the council, she’d need to be sober. If he wanted _this_ , whatever _this_ might be, to work, she’d need to be sober. Even after three days, she remained distant from him. She’d let him take her body, but she wouldn’t give him her mind or her soul anymore. Had he been like this before Scarif? Unemotional, closed-off, empty inside. Sometimes, he thought he saw her hands shake, but she’d quickly find ways to distract him.  
“We can’t stay here forever, you know.” Cassian told her the evening of the fourth day, as he tentatively placed his hand on her hip.

“Forever isn’t what I’m after,” She replied acerbically, pushing his hands away to pull her pants on. 

Following suit, he dressed in silence. With her back turned to him, she adjusted her shirt. His eyes counted her freckles. Even if he never touched her again, he’d have the memories. For years to come, he’d feel Jyn Erso beneath his skin.

She still hadn’t agreed to join him, but at least he could get her off this planet. If he didn’t she’d likely die within a fortnight. Either Jyn would overdoes again, or some ruffian would jump her and get the upper hand before she could fight back. For now, she’d agreed to travel as far as the Undulon system, which gave him time if nothing else.

Giving the room one last look, Cassian closed the door behind them. He hoped that the closing door would be a closing of the door on their pasts; he wanted a fresh start for them both. Unfortunately, Cassian’s fresh start wouldn’t happen so easily when Jyn Erso was involved. As they stepped out in the fading sunlight, a posse of Quarren brigands awaited them.

He managed to get off a shot from the hip, felling one, before a robber slugged him roughly in the mouth. He spat a thick gob of blood into the dirt while one of the robbers clobbered the back of his head; forcing him to his knees. Cassian couldn’t help but think:

_Why does she always get me captured?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been traveling the past few days. I'm hoping to update Tuesday (either for this or for "Intimacy", because I won't be able to update on Thursday and Sunday like usual. Thanks for reading!


	4. Ghost Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The posse takes Jyn and Cassian to their boss, but Jyn has other plans.
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_You can scorch the metal, you can even melt the glass_  
_You can pass the time here, fire lives into the past_  
_An all-consuming flame, that refines and new begins_  
_It'll take your family heirlooms,_  
_But it can take your darkest sins_  
_We exorcise the demons of the things we used to know_  
_The gnashing of the teeth become the remnants of our homes_  
_We think we're moving on, from materials we long_  
_To forget we ever sold our souls to own_  
_~Stranger at my Door (Brandi Carlile)_

Even after they’d overpowered her, Jyn kept trying to fight. They’d wrenched the truncheons from her grip, and despite being cracked in the shoulder with them, she kept right on resisting. When she lost her batons, she switched to clawing and kicking the men who held her. Cassian had to admire the nerve, but he also knew that nerve didn’t explain all of it. Her eyes looked wild but her attempts were futile.  


One of the Quarrens cracked a whip in his hand, lashing it across Jyn’s back. Biting back a scream, she quit struggling. Cassian, however, could’ve laughed at the mutinous look on her face if their prospects weren’t so grim. She set her jaw, but he could see the furious jumping nerve in her neck.

Jyn stopped squirming, but not because she wanted to. If they hadn’t surprised her, she could’ve got a few good swings in with her truncheons. As it stood, though, as soon as the flabby gangster holding her slacked his grip or let down his guard, she’d be all over him. He was tall, even for a Quarren, and had at least six inches on her. But, Jyn could make up for her slight figure with her sheer ferocity.  


Cassian hadn’t put up much of a struggle. Sure, he’d gotten off a shot, but he quickly dropped to the dust. When had the fight gone out of him? Jyn had probably drained it out of him. She’d worn him down like sandpaper on wood.  


The thugs seemed to be debated how best to take them into custody; they had enough horses to carry them to their destination, especially now that one of them was dead. However, they decided to throw the limp body over the back of his horse—“there’s a bounty for him on Coruscant"—leaving Jyn and Cassian to sit in the wagon.

But not before they were subjected to a frisk by the posse. Jyn saw Cassian glaring down his nose at the man who disarmed him. Jyn wouldn’t be lucky to get a quick look over. They knew of her, she’d killed three of their men now and they wanted to humiliate her. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

When the leader moved to touch her—she recognized him as the thug she’d let live in the cantina—she spat in his face and elbowed the man holding her in the ribs painfully. He released her long enough for her to strike the leader in the face, bruising his eye. In response, he swiftly backhanded her across the fake, bloodying her lip. Murder was on her mind, now.  
He grinned at her lasciviously, wriggling his face tentacles, before patting her down. Before he got any ideas about groping her, however, she aimed a swift kick at his groin. Clutching himself, he fell into the dirt. They made this too easy for her. 

Shamefaced and ruddy, he collected himself and roughly grabbed her by the arm, dragging her to the wagon and throwing her onboard. Cassian followed, appearing perfectly poised but those unrelenting eyes gave him away. He was afraid for her.

A small crowd had strayed from the market to the commotion in the street, children pointed, and women covered their faces as they turned away from the scene. Jyn didn’t yet have a battleplan, but she was working on it. Looking at Cassian directly in the eyes, she could practically see his gears spinning too. Feeling slightly guilty—though, she reminded herself, he hadn’t _needed_ to stay—she reached out and briefly covered his rough hand in her own.  


As the posse moved out into the desert, they watched Mos Reimly disappear into the distance.

 

They travelled on for nearly a day: Cassian must be long overdue for a check-in with Rebel Intelligence. But, then again, by the sound of it, he was Rebel Intelligence.  
Under the heat of the sun overhead, the dead man started to collect flies. By noon the next day, he reeked unbearably. Glad that she’d brought her scarf, Jyn used it to keep the worst of the stench out. 

_Cloth stifles more than just stink._

After casting a glance at the men on horse, she scooted closer to Cassian. If their captors had been smart, they’d have bound their wrists. Through a mouthful of cloth, she mumbled:

“The woman is dangerous and I crossed her.”

Cassian, who had not been wearing his balaclava, hadn’t been as lucky as Jyn. He kept his voice low, even as he scrunched his nose against the odor of death. 

“I figured that. I was told by an informant that a drug lord controls this entire moon. That’s where we’re going?”

She nodded her head.

“There’s more,” she whispered, hoping he could hear her over the creaks of the wagon and the conversations of their captors, “I worked for her. I left her outfit, that’s why those guys attacked me in the bar.”

“Jyn, you threatened her!”

Jyn shrugged.

“She likes me. But, she runs this whole moon. That’s why everyone dresses like hicks and they ride horses—she’s got a flair for the dramatic. Horses aren’t even native to this fucking moon

“How’d she manage that kind of influence?”

“Spice running. How do you think I got addicted? I smuggled her stuff out of the port for a few months, but the truth is, she doesn’t really need to worry about the smuggling anymore.”

Jyn wondered why he didn’t ask her why she’d bothered to stay: crossing a dangerous drug lord and sticking around wasn’t her brightest move. She didn’t want to tell him that the surplus of spice had been her primary motivation.

“What’s our best move, Jyn? You said this woman likes you. Does she like you enough to forgive killing her henchmen?”

“She might forgive killing henchmen, but, well, we’ve been killing her kids.”

“We’ve killed her _children_?”

Jyn made a non-committal noise in her throat.

“She has a lot of them.”

If she had a choice, she’d rather not find out just how little Armynda loved her offspring. She and Cassian were outnumbered, but they could take the group by surprise, knock them down, steal their horses, make like hell for the port. If they were lucky, they could ride hard and make it back in half the time. Cassian’s ship would still be where they’d left it and they could be off-planet long before Armynda Janus could give chase. But she that running—even if they could escape or kill their captors—would be suicide in the middle of the desert. The buzzards would pick their bones clean within a day.

Jyn supposed that she should tell Cassian that she’d kept a hidden derringer-blaster in her pocket even after they’d been disarmed. Lucky, she thought, that the posse leader hadn’t tried to frisk her again after she’d kneed him. His stupidity might be enough to eke out an advantage. She couldn’t risk showing Cassian the derringer, but she had to let him know. She could trust Cassian even if she couldn’t trust herself.

“Cassian,” she murmured, “I have a blaster. If things go south: you attack, I shoot.”

His eyes widened and he nodded his head curtly. 

Eventually, they reached an outpost, cleverly hidden away amongst the dunes. Much smaller than Mos Reimly, this outpost consisted of a large hotel, a bustling saloon, and a landing field. An astonishing number of ships—by Cassian’s count, nearly fifty—sat in the dust, ready to fly. It must be the smuggling fleet. A man in a wide-brimmed hat dragged Jyn and Cassian out of the wagon. So far, their treatment had been rough, but Cassian took it as a good sign that they hadn’t been killed outright. Hopefully, Jyn could talk to Armynda, make a few promises, and they’d get fresh mounts and be on their way. However, the sneers on the faces of the people in the outpost did not bode well.

Their captors pushed them on to the saloon. Scantily clad women, one human and to Cerean, lounged on the porch with their legs outstretched in a lurid come-on. Filthy spice smugglers fawned over them, plying the women with cigarettes and alcohol. 

Cassian followed Jyn into the saloon and the Quarren behind pressed the muzzle of a blaster into his shoulder blades. The interior of the saloon was even more rustic than the cantina on Mos Reimly. Gaslamps illuminated the lounge, burning some foul smelling gas, barely distinguishable from the thick perfume worn by the women pouring drinks and enticing Quarren smugglers.

Before he could get an accurate count on numbers, he was forced through a door in the back and up a flight of stairs. The ceiling was low and the red carpet worn down by traveler’s feet. He could hear the raucous laughter of the criminals downstairs. He wished that he was a thousand light years away. He wished that he and Jyn had never left their bed.

“Bring them in.”

Pushed roughly forward through another door, Cassian found himself in an ornately decorated bedroom. Luxurious crimson tapestries and gilted sconces hung on the walls illuminating the room with golden torchlight. A roaring fireplace crackled ominously and a huge metal tub sat in the middle of the room, nearly overflowing with steaming water. As they entered, a tall Quarren woman emerged from the bath, letting water splash back into the tub and onto her lavish rugs. The fire light lit her eery green-grey skin and the tentacles of her face rippled in the glow of the low light. Her black, beady eyes saw only Jyn. Gracefully stepping out, she lounged in the nude for the briefest moment before wrapping herself in a thin, white silk robe that did nothing to hide her figure. For an insane moment, Cassian thought of Mon Mothma. The Quarrens guarding Jyn and Cassian averted their eyes.

“Alydra Alphard. It’s been too long, my darling.”

Cassian kept his back rigid. Despite her pleasant—almost sensuous—tone, tension hung thick in the air, mingling with the steam from the bath. The Quarren drug lord didn’t seem rushed to kill them, but even so, Cassian kept his back to the door, counting the seconds. He cast his eyes about the room, focusing on the wall fixtures and picturing their blunt-force capacity.

Jyn stood razor straight, coiled tightly, like a cat ready to spring.

“I told you I was out for good, Armynda.”

“My sweet girl, no one is ever _out_ of this business.”

“For the sake of my life, I am. I nearly died the other night because you’re flooding this port with spice.”

The Quarren woman laughed. The warmth didn’t reach her black, bottomless eyes. 

“That’s why I need you, Jyn. I need you to get my spice out of the sector.”

Armynda crooned, but the resistance didn’t leave Jyn’s body. Her demeanor remained rigid; ready to fight or flee.

“You own this moon. You don’t need my help.”

“Oh, but I do. My children are worthless. They’d rather get high on my drugs than transport them. At least you get the work done, first.”

“I’m going clean.” Jyn retorted vehemently. Cassian desperately wished it could be that easy.

_“There’s nothing clean about you.”_

In a swift movement, the Quarren woman crossed the room and stood within an inch of Jyn’s face. Her tentacles reached out, as if to caress Jyn’s skin. To her credit, Jyn neither moved nor flinched.  
“You promised to work for me and you ran out on the deal. You had the audacity to stay on my moon. You left because of the drugs but you stuck around just the same. Why? Because you’re a dirty addict, too.”

“And how did I get that way? Running your drugs.” 

Cassian recognized a tone of regret in her voice. Armyda turned, pacing away. 

“I could forgive your insubordination. I could forgive killing my children; I have far too many to keep track of, anyway. It’s harder to forgive disloyalty. But if you come back, agree to keep helping me, I’ll wipe the slate clean. I’ll get you a nice place in Mos Reimly, you and your lover can live rich and we can bleed this galaxy dry together.” 

“No,” Jyn said, looking far more like the woman Cassian had once known.

Armynda Janus swept around, staring deep into Jyn’s eyes.

“How well do you know your own mind, _Jyn Erso?_ ”

Completely staggered, without thinking, Cassian looked to Jyn. 

_How does she know?_

“Yes, oh, yes. I know who you are. Did you think you could hide it from me?”

“How did you find out?”

“I’ve done a few favors for the Empire in my time, darling girl. For all your hiding, they know who you are. Did you really think I could get this much power without paying them off? They weren’t about to let me take all the profit.”

“Why haven’t you turned me in?”

Again, Armynda laughed. Like an untuned instrument, her voice sounded shrill and off-key.

“Watching the hero of the Rebellion ruin herself was too good to pass up, my dear. And you’re a good smuggler. But now, since our business dealings are done, I think I can let the Empire know exactly where you are. I’m sure they’d love to see you again.”

In a flash, Cassian saw Jyn pull the derringer out of her pocket. Not waiting for the flash, Cassian turned and tackled the nearest Quarren guard, knocking him to the floor. Wrenching a sconce off the wall, he brought it down upon the guard’s head, desperately bashing until the man could only stir feebly. Blood trickled from his tentacles, pooling on the floor. Next, Cassian tore the blaster out of the dead guard’s belt and used it to shoot the second guard who was trying to grapple Jyn’s derringer-blaster away. Free from her attacker, Jyn turned her weapon on Armynda. 

Shockingly, she stood still, hands clutching the back of a wooden chair. Armynda hadn’t tried to run or hide or scream for help. All she could do now was accept her brutal, inevitable fate. The fate of so many whose lived intersected with Jyn Erso’s.

“This time, Jyn Erso, you won’t be walking away. That poison in your veins will burn you inside out.”

“Not tonight,” Jyn spat as she fired her derringer.

Armynda neither screamed nor ducked. Instead, she crumpled in a burst of bright light, falling headfirst into the tub, sloshing the scalding water over the sides. Cassian prayed that the boisterous party downstairs hid the sounds of their scuffle. He couldn’t hear any sounds of feet pounding up the stairs, so he assumed they were safe.

Jyn didn’t try to leave immediately. Instead, she searched the room hurriedly. They’d been forced to leave their bags behind, so she stuffed republic credits and a datapad into her pockets. For the first time, her eyes found Cassian’s. Taking his hand, she disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be traveling this weekend so I won't be able to update Thursday or Sunday, but I'll be back next week either Tuesday or Thursday and then after that business as usual.


	5. Changes & Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn and Cassian escape Cheyenne, but Jyn still has a few unanswered questions for him
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_I had all the answers; that was easier than facing the dark_  
_And I sold my story until the story started falling apart_  
_Every secret spoken, out there in the open_  
_I've pretended not to see_  
_And I tried and I failed_  
_And you loved me_  
_And I tried and I failed_  
_And you loved me_  
_I may never understand why I walked so far away_  
_I may never understand what it is that makes you stay_  
_~You Loved Me (Joy Williams)_

Jyn wanted spice. Jyn wanted Cassian. Jyn wanted to fly off Cheyenne and never look back. After killing Armynda, they had picked her room clean, stolen a horse, and rode hard for Mos Reimly. Fortunately, whoever had saddled left a canteen of water strapped to the pack. Without it, their flight back to the port could have been deadly.

As it were, the night—though still stifling—provided the cover of darkness and a slight respite from the heat of the sun. Even so, Jyn felt terribly for her mount: by the end, her dapple grey mare had gone lame and frothed at the mouth. Guiltily, she tacked her outside of a boisterous saloon and hoped that her next rider would treat her more gently.

Exhausted from lack of sleep but kept awake by adrenaline, Jyn and Cassian made their escape. Jyn counted their blessings when they found his ship right where he’d left it. Luck smiled down on Jyn Erso, if only for a moment.

While Cassian flew, she paced. Even after they could be reasonably sure of their safety, she continued in her tight circles, turning on her heel. She wanted to run and to keep on running, she wanted a fix, she wanted the comfort of a warm bed. She wanted so many things and would get so very little.

“You make me nervous when you pace, Jyn.”

She knew he was trying to be funny; trying to lift her mood and distract her. Mulishly, she sat down in the co-pilot chair. In truth, she didn’t feel guilty about the bodies they’d left back on Cheyenne. Collateral damage, she’d call it, but she had to admit that Armynda’s words had shook her. It seemed like Armynda hadn’t ratted her out to the Empire, but she was cunning and devious and Jyn couldn’t be sure. Mostly, she was ashamed that she had ever fallen back in with such people.

She could tell herself that she had always done what it took to survive. But how many had died—overdosed in alleyways—because of her smuggling? Had she inadvertently helped the Empire? How many bodies lay at her feet? Jyn tried to shrug off her crimes. It was done, it was finished. Now, she could atone in the only way she knew how: by fighting for the Rebellion.

_The Rebellion._

The name still felt bitter on her tongue. She had given up everything for them and where had they left her? No matter where she turned, the people spouting high and mighty ideals turned out as crooked as the fuckers who wrung the innocent dry. 

Then she saw Cassian.

How had she not noticed it before? The fine lines at his eyes, the dark circles beneath. Years of wear and tear and disuse. Sleepless nights, she assumed. He’d survived more murder and death than even she could understand and yet, he returned. Maybe she couldn’t support the rebellion with wide-eyed idealism, but she could support him the way he had her. True, he’d let her go once, for reasons she still didn’t fully know. But, she knew him to be a decent man. With her head clear of drugs, she wanted to know the reasons why.

“You’ve told me why you came back for me, but you’ve still not admitted why you forced me to go in the first place.”

Cassian kept his hands steady on the controls, but she could see that his mind worked furiously, running all possible scenarios and outcomes possible of this conversation. He must have decided none of them were good, because he sighed as if defeated.

“Cassian! Fight me. Scream at me! Shout in my face and shake me if you have to, just let in me know there’s something in there, somewhere under all the rest of you.”

Cassian’s eyes look haunted. 

“Jyn, I know how it is to feel hollow inside. I know how it feels to pretend to you can’t feel a fucking thing. I lived that for twenty years. And I’ve lived it a thousand times over since you left. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve regretted it every day since. All of it, everything that happened to you was because I let my heart get in the way of my head. I knew that you would be trouble, but I chose to ignore that and I put us all in danger because of it.”

“That’s not good enough. It’s an excuse. It’s always an excuse from you! Whether it’s letting me go or trying to kill my father, you’ve always got lies lined up, haven’t you?”

“Why didn’t you fight for me? Why didn’t you fight to let me stay?”

“I could see the rebellion unravelling. I thought that if I let you go—let you have a fresh start—that I could find you again when the fighting was done. I didn’t want to watch you and Bodhi be punished for my mistakes. You didn’t ask for any of this, I pulled you into this war.”

Angrily, she turned on him, rocketing out of her seat. 

“My father and Saw Gerrera pulled me into this war, Cassian. There was no other option for me. This path was chosen for me and I did the best that I could manage. I’m sorry that the best of me doesn’t hold up to the Alliance’s standards.”

He followed her and took her by the shoulders now. Shame and remorse hung off him; he looked tired and wane. He could’ve aged a decade in her absence. She didn’t want to examine why the thought made her sad. She wanted to turn back time, she wanted spice, and she wanted him. She wanted the pieces of herself she’d scattered across the winds of space and time. She wanted so many things she’d never get back.  
“You say you didn’t want to lose me, but you dumped me all the same. You let me go, you didn’t even try to keep me. You never gave a damn about me, you certainly never loved me.”

“Jyn, I never _stopped_.”

His voice caught in his throat, his eyes searched her own. It wasn’t a lie.

“I didn’t want to watch them use you the way they used me. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you or watching you die. I’ve watched so many people die, Jyn.”

Jyn didn’t care about the ship or the Alliance or her simmering rage. All that existed in the world was the two of them, now. She could choose to hate him as she’d hated him once. She could choose to despise him as she’d once despised her father and Saw. She saw what hate could do to her body and mind; that way lie ruin.

“Jyn, do you think we could leave all that’s broken in the past?”

“I want to, Cassian. I’ll need to or I’ll die.”

She was close enough to his face to kiss him. He looked like a man who had never lived a day of peace in his life.

“You told me one that my gather would be proud of me. I’m glad he never lived to see me like this.”

Cassian slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out her kyber crystal.

“Are you ready to be Jyn Erso again?”

She placed her hand in his, touching her crystal for the first time in years.

“I think so.”

She wanted to change. She wanted to be Jyn Erso again. There were so many things she wanted. With a pang of guilt, her fingers curled around the bag of spice she’d secretly slipped into her pocket on Cheyenne. He took her into his arms then, holding her fast. Cassian could protect her from the world, but he could never protect her from herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry about the length being shorter than usual, I seem to have picked up the flu while traveling and I'm barely well enough to sit up to write this right now. Hopefully I'll be well enough soon to work on the next chapter, which will be titled "The Reunion."


	6. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Jyn find Bodhi, but bringing him back will prove harder than they imagined...

_Well I knew_   
_What I didn’t want to know_   
_And I saw_   
_Where I didn’t want to go_   
_So I took the path less traveled on_   
_And I'll let my stories be whispered_   
_When I’m gone..._   
_Well in this life you must find something to live for_   
_Cause when the darkness comes a callin'_   
_You'll go back to where you were before_   
_Cause this life is as_   
_Fragile as a dream, and_   
_Nothing’s ever really_   
_As it seems..._   
_~As It Seems (Lily Kershaw)_

After tying the Kyber crystal securely around her neck, Jyn resumed her pacing and Cassian returned to his controls.

“I don’t know if Bodhi will be happy to see me. I sure as hell wouldn’t be.”

Cassian glanced at her, she tried to gauge his guarded expression.

“We didn’t part well.”

“It’s been two years. Time can do a lot of good apart, you know.”

Jyn snorted involuntarily.

“It did for us, didn’t it?”

Jyn thought guiltily of the spice in her pocket but chose to ignore it for now. Instead, she settled herself rather awkwardly between his legs and the dashboard before kissing him. She wanted, more than anything, to make this work. Still, she knew in the deepest part of herself that she might burn it all away anyway.

“Saving my life went a long way, too.”

 

Cassian had located Bodhi’s most recent position in the Undolon system on the planet Nector, he only hoped that Bodhi wasn’t on a run or hadn’t picked up stakes to move on. Tracking down his friends had proved even harder than he’d expected and that was still without finding Baze and Chirrut. 

“I’ve let Kaytoo know where we are, he’ll expect us back at headquarters in two days or he’ll come after us.”

“Can’t let that happen, can we?” asked Jyn dryly. 

“I think, in spite of yourself, you’ve almost missed him.”

“Maybe a little.”

 

The six planets of the Undolon system, unlike Yavin 4, were neither lush nor green. They were among the first planets to be industrialized, turned from landscapes of breathtaking mountain ranges into wastelands of bolts and grease and industry. Quickly, the system became a hub for enterprise and technology. Just as quickly, however, the precious coalmines of the mountain ranges ran dry, and the once booming economy soon collapsed into black ash and rust. Dry for centuries following the commercial refinement of oil as a fuel source, the system now primarily operated as the Imperial war machine’s development locale for bit parts of their larger vessels. Settlement by settlement, the Empire stripped the old factories of their excess metals for use in their war.

After they landed, Jyn stepped out onto the landing pad and coughed the moment she breathed in. The smog in the air overpowered her lungs and threatened to send her into a fit. The sky above them was choked black and gray by pollution. The other people on the landing pad were pilots, engineers, traders, grunt Stormtroopers. All of them kept their heads down. Cassian envied the Stormtroopers with their ventilation masks.

“He should be working as a cargo pilot. I guess he was hoping that by hiding way out here they’d never realize who he is.”

“Why is Bodhi working for the Empire?”

Cassian wanted to be angry about that fact, but he’d learned from Jyn that survival often required moral compromise. As a spy, he’d only ever learned to follow the ideology of the greater good, his survival only held as much value as the knowledge he carried.

He spotted Bodhi’s back from across the landing pad: Cassian would’ve recognized those perched goggles anywhere. The all too familiar Imperial suit was covered in grease and grime. He clutched a bulky crate in his arms. As if willed by the Force, he slowly turned. When his eyes met theirs, the fumbled and the crate dropped from his arms, splitting into splinters upon the ground. His mouth fell open. Cassian and Jyn didn’t have time to reach him before a team of Stormtroopers were upon him.

“That’s him! The saboteur!”

One of the Stormtroopers roughly threw him to the ground and wrenched Bodhi’s hands behind his back and cuffed him.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t—I haven’t—done anything! What are you doing?”

One of the Stromtroopers struck him across the mouth.

“Shut up!”

Not cowed, Bodhi cast a pleading glance to Jyn and Cassian.

“Are you taking me to the _cells_ ?”

Jyn darted forward, but Cassian clutched her arm and pulled her back swiftly before the troopers could notice her. The last thing he needed was both of them in prison. Bodhi had given them a clue: now they just needed to figure out what it meant.

“That’s where we take traitors, idiot.”

A few bystanders had stopped to gawk, but most continued on their paths, barely passing the unfortunate Cargo pilot a single look as the Stromtroopers dragged him away, even as Bodhi continued rambling indignantly.

“Do you know this planet well, Cassian?”

“Not particularly. Just what I found out tracking him down. He mentioned someplace called the “cells”, so they must have some sort of crude jail. If we’re lucky, it’ll be on this planet and not one of the others. We could ask the locals.”

Wordlessly, Jyn followed the Stormtroopers who’d taken Bodhi.

“Why ask when we could find out for ourselves?”

He never knew whether to smile or grimace when it came to Jyn. He’d missed her fire and her spirit; the gravity that pulled him back into her arms despite everytime she turned him away. The past few days had changed her, he’d hoped. Not entirely back into the woman who had nearly died with him, but the glimmer was there. He had hope.

Together they followed the Stormtroopers at a safe distance, far enough away to make a clean escape or take cover and start shooting. A few voices, notably Bodhi’s, carried back to them. Cassian kept his eyes sharp, the old spy senses returning with each step. Jyn moved like a woman on a mission: from the second she’d seen Bodhi, all her worries had been erased. Now, he could tell that she only wanted him back, safe and sound.

They skirted the streets, dodging under roof awnings and into shadows, using the fog and smoke to their advantage. Finally, the Stormtroopers stopped outside a battered red-brick building with barred windows. The cells? One of the troopers pressed a keypad on the door without releasing his grip on Bodhi, who had quieted. Cassian hoped he realized how close they were.

As another squad of troopers passed, Cassian and Jyn flattened themselves against a duratseel wall. Cassian knew they needed a plan, and he suspected that getting out would be much harder than getting in. 

_Where's Kay when I need him?_

Comfortable, at the base, while Cassian “tracked down that Erso woman.” He wracked his brain: the old prisoner gag might be their best course of action, but it felt overplayed. If these troopers were smarter than usual, they’d be caught in a second. Unless they could steal some armor, pull a clever move like they had on Scarif. It’d take patience and luck, but if he could keep Jyn from rushing in, gun blazing, it just might work. 

They heard a voice call through the door:

“Password?”

“Omega.”

“Orders?”

“Prisoner drop. They found out who was sabotaging all of the shipments.”

“Over. Bring him in.”

Jyn grew restless beside him. Her eyes darted to where Bodhi stood, hunched over, before his captors dragged him bodily through the sliding door.

“If we don’t go now, we might lose him,” she hissed through her gritted teeth, “we need to go now!”

He tightened his grip upon her wrist.

“Not yet. We know the password. We just need to wait for another small squad to pass, two to three men, then we can knock them out and take their gear.”

“That’s a terrible plan.”

“It’s better than running in now and getting ourselves and Bodhi killed in the process. If we’re lucky, we can sneak out of here without raising an alarm.”

Jyn snatched her arm out of his grip, but she didn’t argue. They found an abandoned warehouse, a few buildings down from the cells where they’d lay their trap. It only took Cassian a moment to break the padlock, clearly the building hadn’t been updated by the Empire to fit their needs.

Jyn, posing as an injured woman, would moan and scream on the floor. Cassian, playing the part of her dutiful husband, would hunt downa small team of Stormtroopers to rope in under the guise of an “emergency.” Once isolated, they’d kill the troopers and take their armor.

Cassian could tell that Jyn was less than thrilled by the prospect of lying in the dirt and feigning injury, but in lieu of a better plan she reluctantly agreed. Cassian waited in the shadows like a spiders spinning its web. Civillians and Stormtroopers passed, but none in groups small enough that he could overpower them if need be.

As time wore on, he began to fear that the plan would fail before it even begun. Cassian calmed himself by remembering that Bodhi survived days as Saw Gerrera’s prisoner. Surely, he could survive a few hours here. Just as he was beginning to entertain Jyn’s plan, he spotted two Stormtroopers, clearly just off-duty and chatting idly, making their way down the street, probably heading back to barracks.

Steeling himself, Cassian took a deep breath and ran into the street, arms flailing.

“My wife! My wife!” Cassian hoped that his voice didn’t sound too stilted.

The Stormtroopers, intrigued, ran over.

“What’s all this, then?”

“My wife, there’s something wrong. She just collapsed—I didn’t know what to do!”

“Where is she?”

Trying to sound as contrite as possible, Cassian motioned to the warehouse.

“In here, sir.”

“They’re squatters, Griggs,” spat the first Trooper, eyeing Cassian head to foot, taking in the dust and dirt stains on his clothing.

“Hey, Red. Don’t be like that. We might as well help. Lead the way.”

Cassian bowed hurriedly and escorted them inside, grateful that the Stormtrooper had a sense of decency. Of course, it wouldn’t serve him well, but it was just one more unfortunate reality of living in this world. Cassian had killed both the good and the bad in his tenure as spy. Even now, he didn’t want to look too hard or long at those decisions.

“Liana? Dear? Can you hear me?”

Jyn, true to her word, curled up on the floor, holding herself, obscuring her hands and most of her body with the scarf. She groaned theatrically as she thrashed on the floor, kicking up dust.

“What’s wrong with her?” 

Cassian hadn’t planned for that.

“She’s having a baby.”

Cassian could’ve sworn that Jyn threw him a look before moaning increasingly louder with her fake pain. He’d probably pay for that later, but the Stromtroopers fell for it and approached her. As Griggs reached out a hand to help her, Jyn deftly kicked him in the stomach. Cassian jumped upon Red, dragging him to the ground and kicking him senseless. Even without their weapons, Cassian and Jyn were able to overpower the Stormtroopers through sheer violence alone. In an instant, they’d both disarmed the unfortunate troopers.

“Remove your armor. You shout for help, you die. Now!”

Piece by piece, they silently removed their helmets and set them aside. They looked like any men Cassian might have known. They looked like men he might’ve gotten a drink with in another life. They didn’t look like enemies without their uniforms. They looked as scared as Cassian felt. Still, they removed each piece quickly, expertly, as if they didn’t realize the quicker they moved, the quicker they’d arrive to their deaths.

“Please, don’t.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Cassian retorted gruffly.

Two more names. Just two. What were two more, stacked against all the rest? He steadied the blaster in his hands as he pointed it at Griggs. Jyn’s eyes locked on Cassian’s as she nodded. The rapport of the blasters didn’t disturb the street outside.

 

Ten minutes later, Jyn and Cassian stood outside the door of Bodhi’s prison. They didn’t have a map of the structure’s floorplans, they didn’t know how many Stormtroopers they might face. They didn’t even know where Bodhi was.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Cassian murmured, before pressing the keypad.

“Password?”

Cassian mimicked the posh accent of the Imperials as best as he could. It had been years since he’d needed to use it in the field.

“Omega.”

“Orders?”

“Extra guard for the new prisoner.”

“That’s odd. We have no record of any orders.”

“I was told he might have well-connected friends who might not take well to his arrest.”

The perturbed voice echoed back:

“Over. _Why don't they ever tell me anything_ ?”

Cassian let out a quick breath of relief before striding through the sliding door with Jyn at his side. In an instant, he sized up the room. Only one guard, sitting idly at the control desk, blaster hung on the wall behind him. They stood in an old-fashioned cellblock, only the locks on the cells had been converted to modern technology and even that looked many years out of date.

A white streak ran past Cassian. He couldn’t catch Jyn in time. In an instant, she was on top of the Stormtrooper and wrestling him to the ground. Even without her truncheons, she was formidable and surprisingly strong. Cassian brought the butt of his blaster down on the control panel, damaging the comm system as Jyn threw the Stormtrooper into the brick wall. After the first time, he still stood on shaky feet. Undeterred, she grabbed him again and threw _once_ , _twice_ , _THREE_ more times until he fell into a heap of scuffed armor upon the floor. She kicked his head for good measure.

Bodhi stood in the first cell, eyes wide at the spectacle. Jyn removed her helmet and set it aside, and Cassian followed suit. Fiddling with his boot, Cassian was silently grateful that the Quarrens on Cheyenne hadn’t been more thorough. Locating a lock pick, he efficiently short-circuited the lock on Bodhi’s cell.

They stood in silence for a moment. Three years of wasted chances and promises and burned friendships hung in the air thicker than the smog. Cassian felt Jyn shift beside him. She approached, hesitantly at first, her eyes questioning, almost begging for absolution or forgiveness. Insanely, Cassian thought Bodhi might turn them away. Then, Bodhi embraced her closely. For once, he was speechless as they clung to each other. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and clamped his other arm firmly around her back. Cassian thought he looked like a man who never wanted to let go.

For just one moment, Cassian distantly wondered if they had become lovers. Jyn had spent far more time on the run with Bodhi than she had with Cassian. But he knew this to be ridiculous: their embrace was intimate, but platonic. He held her like a lost sister. Cassian saw her shoulders shake as Bodhi held her tighter. Bodhi nuzzled into Jyn’s neck, but he looked up for a moment to meet Cassian’s eyes. When Jyn pulled away, she swiped at her eyes as Bodhi shakily gestured towards Cassian with a smile. Cassian closed the distance in a heartbeat.

 

Though none of the Stormtrooper uniforms fit well, Cassian supposed they’d do well enough to get them safely through town and onboard their ship. Bodhi got the worst of it: Jyn’s overenthusiastic attack on the guard left a noticeably dent in the helmet. Shrugging, Bodhi slipped it on. Fortunately, none of the Imperials in the street noticed as the group made their way back to the ship. 

For once, their plan didn’t go straight to hell. Cassian should have felt relief, but he couldn’t help but think of the bloody bodies they’d left back in the warehouse. He distracted himself by fiddling with the controls on the console, even though he didn’t need to. With a confidence unusual to him, Bodhi took his spot in the pilot chair and started the engines of the new Rogue One.

“You know, I can’t believe you found me. I mean, I’m glad you did. I should’ve known they’d catch wind of what I was doing eventually but I told myself—I told myself that it was worth it and it was.”

“Why were they calling you a saboteur?”

“I’ve been sabotaging all of the shipments. I’m—or I was—in charge of inspecting the exports so it was easy. I guess enough of their ships started falling apart that they traced in back to me.”

“How’d you come up with that one, Bodhi?” 

“Well, the Rebellion didn’t want me but I guess I wasn’t done with them yet. Besides, I already had the uniform,” Bodhi beamed at them, “Baze and Chirrut are gonna be so excited to see you guys. They’ve been out on their own so long, and I can only visit once in a while when I’m in the system.” 

“Baze and Chirrut? They’re in the Undulon system, too?”

“Yeah, we reconnected a while back on Jedha,” Bodhi kept his voice level, but Cassian detected the hint of sorrow that lingered there. Most people saw Jedha as the center of religious pilgrimage. For Bodhi, it had been _home_.

“I guess we all had the same idea, we wanted to go home. They wanted to rebuild what they could, but there’s nothing they could do. There are a few pilgrim camps, but most people don’t stay longer than a day or two. All the ash and dust in the air makes it hard to breathe and well, it’s not like the Jedha we knew anymore.”

“Where are they living?”

“A commune, up in the mountains. It was founded before the industrial boom. People trying to get away from the “tide of industry” or something like that. Now, it’s mostly religious expatriates and force followers. Baze hates it.”

By the time they had reached the settlement, the night neared dusk. Theirs was the only ship parked in the canyon; the expatriates must have climbed into the mountains from the city below. This high in the mountains, away from the city, the air was clearer and crisp to the lungs. Cassian could see why it would appeal to Chirrut. 

Their arrival, though unexpected, must not have been unwanted. Immediately, they were greeted by a plump, middle-aged Tholothian woman who hugged Bodhi to her bosom tightly. She took Jyn by the hand and patted Cassian’s thin stomach.

Bodhi smiled and let her lead them into the camp. Campfires burned brightly, sending crackling embers soaring into the sky even as the darkness encroached upon them. Though makeshift, the commune was quite large, with tents extended out as far as Cassian could see. The woman jabbered away in a language foreign to Cassian, but Bodhi fired right back. 

Jyn hung back, letting Bodhi and the woman chat away.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. But still, the weight of the day hung on his shoulders. The knot in his chest remained tightly coiled. She slipped her hand into his as they continued through the camp.

“And here we are.”

They found Baze and Chirrut around a campfire. Chirrut sat cross-legged upon the ground, holding a mug of some indistinguishable stew. Baze stood at the kettle over the fire, ladling a bowl for himself. Chirrut sensed them first and turned around, grinning.

“You’d better ladle a few more, Baze.”

Bodhi spoke first. Cassian thanked whatever Force might exist for Bodhi Rook.

“Look who I’ve brought!”

Bodhi gestured to Jyn and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her and Cassian closer to Baze and Chirrut. Chirrut took Jyn’s hand and Baze patted her awkwardly on the back and called her “little sister”, but Cassian hung back, hesitant. He didn’t deserve their companionship, he stayed, a half-pace away.

“Why don’t you join us, Captain. We don’t bite.”

Illuminated by the firelight, Cassian watched Jyn’s face light up as he hadn’t seen in years. She belonged her with them. And he belonged with her. Settling himself next to Bodhi, he rejoined the group. The crew had split and fractured, but now they’d found themselves—almost entirely—whole and together up in the hills of some forgotten mountain range. They had no missions, no operatives, no goals. In those hours after dusk, they needed nothing but each other. In the company of friends, Cassian pushed back the darkness from his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I’m really back this time, I promise! I’m finally on the mend, so look out for the next chapter on Sunday. It’ll be a direct continuation of this chapter, so expect more campfire goodness and group bonding.


	7. Around the Glowing Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn, Cassian, and the Rogue One crew enjoy a nice break from their troubles. Jyn, on the other hand, is still haunted by her addiction.
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_All in good time_  
_Somehow you find_  
_Days that still shine with light_  
_All in good stead_  
_You’re safe and you’re fed_  
_With dreams in your head_  
_Good night_  
_Don’t need much to be happy_  
_A friend to soften a fall_  
_And something to show for my labors_  
_After all_  
_I had to learn to be grateful_  
_I had to learn how to see_  
_Mistakes that might have proved fatal_  
_Are gifts I now receive_  
_~Don’t Need Much to be Happy (Mary Chapin Carpenter)_

Maybe she imagined it, but Jyn thought that Cassian looked troubled. She knew it well—the knitted brow, the faraway expression, the frown. She watched him closely across the campfire: the embers crackled and gleamed; illuminating his face. He should be at peace now, but he she could tell that he wasn’t. Not even close. She wanted to take him in her arms and soothe it all away, but that wasn’t her way.

Jyn shivered in the cool night air. She wrapped her hands around the mug of cider, letting its warmth fill up her body. Smoothing down the hard edges of her fatigue, the drink in her stomach crept up on her, radiating a comfortable heat from her belly out to her fingers and toes. She tried not to remember that spice could do it better. 

Surrounded by allies and friends, it should have been easy to forget. The events of the past few days—the trail of bodies, her overdose, their flight from Cheyenne—hung heavy on her shoulders. Jyn longed to leave that world behind. And watching them now: Chirrut laughing and lounging, Bodhi tittering and sitting like a cross-legged schoolboy, Baze stretched out warily—even distant Cassian—she hoped she might be able to. 

She turned her attention to Chirrut, who presently was retelling the story of his escape with Baze from Alliance Headquarters. Chirrut did most of the talking, but occasionally Baze would grunt or sigh his approval—disapproval? Jyn wasn’t sure—at a detail. Apparently, she and Bodhi missed quite a lot.

“Bodhi, you’d never believe how quickly those councilmen let us go after Baze showed them his repeater canon. Isn’t that right, Baze?”

_"Mmph."_

“We stood there—surrounded by them—expecting them to try and arrest us like they did you, any second. I had my staff, but Baze Malbus wasn’t going to let them try.”

Bodhi and Jyn both leaned closer to the fire to hear. Jyn sensed that a few passersby’s might also be lingering to hear the story. They had probably never seen either man fight, least of all the blind warrior monk.  
“After that, it was easy to steal a ship. Being a Guardian of the Whills has its benefits. The Force saw us safety here, where we met other believers. We fit right in.”

“ _I_ saw us safely here.”

Chirrut smiled, but didn’t argue. Jyn sensed that if it weren’t for Chirrut, Baze would have left this place long ago. Jyn privately marveled at that kind of dedication. Could she ever commit herself to Cassian like that? She fiddled with a clump of grass beside her, plucking bit by bit until the spot was bald. Throwing the detritus into the fire, she chanced another glance at Cassian.

This time, he didn’t look distant. His eyes met hers, searching desperately. Her skin heat up; she pretended it was from the proximity of the flames. Her mind traveled back to the nights they’d spent together on Cheyenne. She’d kissed him since then, of course, but it hadn’t meant anything, had it? It wasn’t a declaration or a promise, just a desire to touch and be touched in return. 

They didn’t have to be together. The interlude in the flat, the kiss on the ship, the way he’d held her, all of it, she could push it away. She could pretend it didn’t matter, that it meant nothing, did nothing. She could pretend and she’d ache, but it wouldn’t change the fact that Cassian Andor had, once again, walked into her life and upended it. 

_I wish like hell I'd never met you._

Had she meant those words when she’d callously flung them in his face? It had felt good—relieving, even—to rage at him, to make him feel her pain. To make him see what three years apart had done to her. But, he’d saved her too. He’d left her but he’d come back for her. The way he looked at her now—she felt her face burning under the intensity of his gaze—she knew that he would always want more from her, need more from her. Was she prepared to give it? Or had she fucked herself beyond the point of fixing?

Bile welled up in her throat. She’d kept the spice. She hadn’t left everything behind on Cheyenne, instead she’d dragged it right along with her. It sat in her pocket, accusatorily. Its presence made her sick. It reminded her of everything: Armynda crumpling before her, drunken traders pawing at her body, losing herself night after night in a bottle of liquor or a bump of spice. She only had the one bag left. One bag of spice stood between her and the future she might’ve deserved in a better life.

“What about you, Jyn? What have you been up to since we split up?”

Bodhi’s face looked cheerful. She wouldn’t ruin that moment for the entire galaxy.

“I’ve done a lot of smuggling. I got mixed up with a bad crowd, like before. You know the types, Bodhi. Too much swagger and too little brains, I couldn’t help myself. Cassian had to swoop in and rescue me.”

She saw the ghost of a smile cross his face. But it, like so many of his emotions, disappeared in an instant, as if she only imagined it. They both tried so hard not to share too much, but ultimately they failed. They always got through the cracks in each other’s armor. She’d watched him put up those walls around his heart, only to tear them down in a moment of wild desperation. They knew each other too well to continue trying to hide from the truth.

“Are you troubled, Jyn?” 

Chirrut didn’t need to turn to her. She knew he could sense her unease. Whether it was a particular sense, brought by his lack of sight, or the will of the Force, she’d never know. It would always make her a little uneasy, to know that one of her friends might feel her emotions more clearly than she did herself.

“No, it’s just been a while since I’ve spent a night like this. I forgot what it’s like.”

Jyn shifted awkwardly, hoping Chirrut would believe her. She sensed that he didn’t.

“I didn’t think peace like this existed anywhere in the Galaxy.”

“You can find peace wherever you look for it.”

Jyn wasn’t so sure about that. Then again, she’d really only sought out trouble, hadn’t she? Standing up, she brushed herself off. She wanted a walk, the chance to stretch her legs. She wanted her spice. She’d stop herself from running too far. Hopefully, they wouldn’t ask too many questions. Chirrut would know he struck a nerve, but there wasn’t much she could do.

Cassian’s eyes followed her, but soon he fell back into easy conversation with the others. Dimly, she heard Baze’s booming voice, admonishing Chirrut for some wild claim. She wanted to enjoy their company, but now she had a mission. Slowly she paced away, treading lightly on the ground. A dark cloud obscured the moon overhead, but the sporadic campfires lit her way. As she left them behind, they glittered like small firebugs in the night. She’d rejoin them soon enough, but in the meantime all she could think of was the spice. It hung in her pocket like a lead weight.

A lone star, temporarily visible through the clouds, twinkled and flickered in the sky above. Following it, she pretended she was a little girl again on Lah’mu. She’d tread the silty black soil in her bare feet, letting it squish between her toes. She longed for the security of being little Jyn again, instead of the outlaw with a pocketful of drugs.

Turning, the others had become a group of shadows, jumbled around a glowing fire. Maybe they weren’t carefree, but they were close. She continued on, unsure of what she wanted to find. Guided only by the single star, the only sound she could hear now was the rustle of the wind through the tall grass. Reaching out a hand, she brushed her fingers across a stalk. Maybe she’d just continue like this forever, until she disappeared into the mountain.

Eventually, she came upon a rushing, winding brook. Over the course of a millennia, it cut away a hole in the hard rock of the mountain face. The brook wound through the grass and the rock, leading on to some place she couldn’t see. With trembling fingers, she took the bag of spice from her pocket. 

_Take it._

_Throw it away!_

_Take it!_

One way lay ruin, the other lay uncertainty. She couldn’t keep living this way or she’d die. She couldn’t keep living this way or she’d lose Cassian again. She’d told him that she was willing to change; could she prove it now? 

She could throw the bag into the stream and let the current do its work. But then, might some unfortunate soul find the bag? Without hesitating she ripped the bag open and dumped the contents into the river. Bright crimson powder mixed into nothing in the churning water. Still, it stained her fingertips. Sitting down, she let the water wash her hands clean. 

Jyn lingered a moment longer than she need to; the gentle caress of the wind on her face, the gurgling of the stream, the chill in the air. All of it quietly reminded her: 

_I'm alive._

There were a million ways she should’ve died by now. Whether by providence or luck, she’d survived. In spite of herself, her heart kept on beating. She’d been given a second chance—third?—chance at life. Silently grateful, she headed back to the campfire to find the others. She walked with a new lightness to her step, an unfamiliar rhythm. Almost a skip. She found them as she’d left them, only now Bodhi was well into his cup, and by the looks of it Chirrut and Cassian weren’t far behind. Before taking her spot next to Bodhi, she let her hand trail lightly over the back of Cassian’s neck. What was the point of hiding it anymore?

If the others noticed, they didn’t mind. Bodhi passed Baze’s flask to Jyn and she gulped greedily, not caring when she splashed a little on her tunic. Passing the drink around, even Cassian cracked a grin and reached for the flask. Now, Jyn let the warmth fill her up. The edges softened, and she felt the tug on her heartstrings. Tomorrow, they’d need to ask Baze and Chirrut to join them. But for now, they had the fire and the drink and the company. When the flask came around a third time, Jyn shook her head and passed it along. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to remember the night.

At a neighboring fire, a man picked up a fiddle and started to play a reel. The Tholothian woman who had welcomed them first showed up and offered them fresh baked from a tray. At Bodhi’s insistence, she joined them at their campfire and took a swig of the flask. From her garbled speech, Jyn took her name to be Magara. 

Swept away by the beauty of it all, Jyn tapped her foot along with the lilt of the music. Bodhi clapped his hands beside her, slightly off the rhythm. Baze basked in the light of the campfire, eyes flickering between wakefulness and sleep. Chirrut hummed along. Cassian watched her as if she were the only thing in the entire galaxy he could see.

Spurred on by the drink and the affection welling up inside her, Jyn took Bodhi by the hand and pulled him to his feet. The music played on; Jyn knew nothing about dancing. She had no sense of rhythm or timing or footwork, but she had a reason to dance. 

She swung Bodhi around, his feet skirting the edge of the campfire. Chirrut prodded Baze with his staff. Shaking his head, Baze settled back, propping himself on his arms. Grinning, Chirrut grabbed Magara and joined Jyn and Bodh’s stampede around the fire. In boots too clunky to be graceful, Jyn spun and turned until she and Bodhi couldn’t keep their balance anymore. Falling into each other, she laughed too hard and was delightfully dizzy. By now, others from the separate campfires joined and mingled and danced, enraptured by the strange, wild newcomers. 

Trying to right herself, Jyn reached out. Suddenly, Cassian was there, wrapping his arms around her. She didn’t mind; he anchored her body and her mind. Resting her swimming head against his chest, she let her body sway with his. Bodhi danced nearby, twirling a Twi’lek woman round and round. Even Baze was on his feet now. Jyn, on the other hand, only noticed Cassian.

She breathed him in deeply; his musk mingled with the burning wood on the fire and the chilly night air. The heady scent enveloped her, transfixing her in time and place. Long after the fire died down to embers, long after Chirrut and Baze retired to their tent, long after Bodhi disappeared into the dark with his new friend, Cassian took her by the hand and lead her to an empty tent.

It was cozier than she would have imagined. There were enough blankets on the tarp to keep out the chill and a miner’s gas lamp in the corner. She could’ve fallen asleep in a heartbeat, but she didn’t. In truth, she probably should have, but Jyn Erso was never one to follow that sort of path. She was restless and weary, and she knew the look in Cassian’s eyes too well.

It wasn’t the look of drunk strangers; it was the look of a man who might love her. Unburdened by the alcohol, disarmed by the camaraderie, she watched his old façade slip away. Releasing her own, she joined him on top of the blankets. Willingly, she lost herself in the taste of him on her lips and the feel of him in her arms. Their skin burned and seared with fire, but all she felt was him.


	8. Into the Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn an Cassian spend the night together, but when they awake the camp is not as they left it.
> 
> Jyn on the run, Bohdi Rook imprisoned, Chirrut and Baze in the wind…things didn’t go as Cassian Andor planned and now he must reassemble the Rogue One crew. But will Jyn even want to come back to fight the greatest evil the galaxy has ever known?

_But me I'm the dead one_  
_You are the lover_  
_Who loved me right down to my bones_  
_Now I walk through the fire alone_  
_The powers that push me_  
_They move me they own me_  
_They constantly tell me to run_  
_I try not to listen_  
_I try to fight them_  
_But never a battle I've won_  
_So I let go of lovers_  
_I let go of diamonds_  
_I've plenty of sins to atone_  
_~Walk Through the Fire (Mary Gauthier)_

Jyn awoke late in the night to the curious sound of shouting; she heard it distantly, as if echoing through memory and not reality. At first, she thought of the fireside revelers and religious pilgrims, celebrating and chanting. In an instant, however, she heard the screaming voices growing closer. They didn’t sound jubilant at all: their keens shook with terror. A sulfur stench clung to the air.  
Jumping to her feet, Jyn searched in the dim tent for her clothes. By now, surely, she should have known not to let down her guard. 

“Cassian!”

He stirred but did not wake. 

_I don’t have time for this._

She kicked him roughly through the blankets; startling him awake. Within a moment, he’d cleared his mind of sleep’s cobwebs.

“Something’s wrong,” Jyn whispered through clenched teeth as she pulled a shirt over her head. She only had her derringer-blaster, she’d left her Stormtrooper blaster on the ship. Damning herself, she threw Cassian’s own clothes at him before running out of the tent, into the night.

Disoriented, she swayed on her feet and tried to take in her surroundings: tall flames lit up the night, reaching far into the night sky. The fire hungrily tore its way across the camp; destroying all of the tents in its wake. Pilgrims ran here and there, some attempting to put out the flames with blankets or buckets of water. Their efforts, Jyn cought tell, were in vain. The fire burned too quickly to have been an accident, and she detected an odor of rocket fuel on the wind. 

Soon, Cassian appeared beside her. They took off running, searching, desperately for Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze. Jyn’s head rang painfully, reminding her of the liquor she’d drunk hours before. She scanned the crowds and crumpled tents, hoping—praying—that her friends were safe. The smoke throttled her and her eyes watered, hampering her vision. Reaching out, she felt with her hands, urgently searching for something or someone. A hand closed around hers, as Cassian led them on.

They passed a woman, prostrate on the ground, while a man pounded on her chest. Through her own tears, Jyn saw the woman’s injuries: the burns to her torso and face were so severe that Jyn’s stomach flipped. The woman’s face, she saw, had been so melted and deformed by the flames that Jyn did not even know if she was human. The angry, red welters covered her entire body, oozing yellow pus and bright red blood. The man shook her by the shoulders and wailed, but the woman didn’t answer.

Cassian tried to drag Jyn away, but she fought him off. Sinking to her knees, she pushed the man away. She tried to remember the technique that Saw taught her to save lives. Opening the woman’s mouth and pinching the nose closed, Jyn shared her breath. She counted silently, blocking out the shrieks and cries surrounding her. One, two, three, four, five… Try as she might, the woman never opened her eyes and her heart never beat again.

In a blur, she stood up and stumbled away. Tent after tent, she and Cassian checked for survivors. Together, they rescued five people from the rubble of their own tents, even as fires raged over their heads. 

“Jyn! Cassian!”

A familiar voice called to them, turning, relief washed over Jyn at the sight of Bodhi. In a moment, he joined them, panting and covered in soot.

“Baze and Chirrut. Have you seen them?”

Jyn recognized the sheer horror in Bodhi’s eyes. Wide and dark, Jyn imagined her own reflected his.

“No, I’ve been searching. I’ve dragged three people out of their tents…I don’t know if any of them made it—they were so burned,” Bodhi shook his head, as if to clear it, “so burned. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

Through her own confusion, Jyn nearly didn’t hear the sound overhead of TIE fighters approaching. It wasn’t until she heard the terrifyingly familiar sound of proton bombs deploying that reality clicked. 

“GET DOWN!”

_They’ve found us._

Upon recognizing the whirring of the bombs, she had enough time to grab Bodhi and Cassian, throwing them to the ground and covering them with her own body. The center of the camp went up in green flames as the TIE fighters flew by and opened fire.

Through the flames and smoke, Jyn saw them approach: a squad of armor-class Stormtroopers. Cursing herself, she clambered to her feet, with Bodhi and Cassian close behind. Cassian and Bodhi, at least, had real blasters. With her small gun, she’d need a different weapon. Glancing around, she grabbed a scorched tent pole from the ground and testing it in her hand. Cassian began to shoot at the Stormtroopers as Bodhi shouted at the survivors to run. Those that could took off into the night while the troopers fired at their backs.

Twenty Stormtroopers advanced into the camp, ignoring the flames and the camp as it collapsed all around them. Unconscionably, Jyn thought of Kaytoo. Three against twenty, with Baze and Chirrut nowhere in sight

_If they’re dead…_

Jyn forced the thought away. If she wasn’t careful, she’d soon follow them. If he were there, he wouldn’t like these odds. Jyn, Bodhi, and Cassian took cover behind a burning tent. The TIE fighters circled back, blowing away an entire section of tents, where Baze and Chirrut had been sleeping. 

_They must’ve made it out…_

A few Stormtroopers fell to Cassian’s blaster, but the rest fanned out, deliberately shooting straggling pilgrims even as they begged for mercy with their hands up. The slaughter would continue unless they could rob the advantage. Jyn looked to Cassian, willing him to understand what she was about to do.

“They’ll kill everyone. They’ll hunt us down. We’ve got to hit them straight on.”

“With what? A stick?”

“I’ve fought with worse,” Jyn seethed, gripping her weapon fiercely, “take out as many as you can, and I’ll do the rest.”

Jyn didn’t linger, she knew that Cassian and Bodhi would try to make her say, to make her see reason. But now, she needed to do what she did best: fight and kill with little regard for her own safety. Charging out from cover, she felt Cassian and Bodhi’s blaster bolts soar past her head, saw them connect with targets. Dodging between rubble when she could, Jyn fired with one hand and clutched the tentpole with her other. The Stormtroopers were quickly dropping in number; only twelve remained on their feet. Nearly a small enough group that she could go in alone.

While crouched behind the remains of their campfire, Jyn aimed her derringer through a gap in the lumber pile. A Stormtrooper dropped hard upon impact, falling to the ground. The flames lapped at his legs even as his comrades marched forth, ignoring his cries. As the flames engulfed his body, Jyn looked away, not wanting to see his armor melt into his skin. If there was a worse way to die, she couldn’t think of it. But she’d rather watch a thousand troopers burn than watch Cassian or Bodhi hurt again on her account.

Feeling her own desperation rising like bile within her stomach, Jyn thought of a day, three years before, when she’d also watched her life catch fire all around her. Banishing those demons with a shake of the head, she looked for one brief moment at Cassian. Now wasn’t the time to confess or atone or forgive. Still, she hoped the fire reflected in her eyes would be enough for him to understand. He looked into her eyes as if memorizing them, almost hungrily, but with a deepness of fear she couldn’t fathom. At once begging and determined, he’d let her go to do her work.

Rising to her feet, she clutched her weapons. In times like this, they were all she had. Ignoring Bodhi’s calls, she charged into the fray. As she darted, dodging their fire and the collapse of the world around her, she felt almost elated. Jyn felt the fire singe her back, but she paid it no mind. Jyn Erso could outrun the flames. 

_This is living._

It was dying, too, she knew; all around her, charred remains smoldered sickeningly. Distantly, she heard the screech of the TIE fighters. Using a body for cover, she honed in on the oncoming squad. Luckily, Cassian’s sniping and Bodhi’s potshots thinned their numbers for her. It was only as she stood from her crouch behind the form on the ground that she realized it was all that was left of Magara. Ignoring the great opening chasm in her stomach, once more she charged. All she could think of was her own blinding rage, a fire burning far more fearsome than the one at her back. Behind her, she heard the horrifying sound of an explosion, how or what, she didn’t dare turn to check. All the same, the fire burned white-hot at her back.

Jyn hardly recognized herself as she swung the pole with her full force into the chestplate of an unfortunate Stormtrooper. Now, she needn’t fear the TIE fighters. Surely, they weren’t stupid enough to fire upon their own men? She aimed her derringer at the man’s helmet and pulled the trigger. Without waiting, she turned and fired at the next closest man, watched as he fell to the ground, rasping and gasping out his last. Spilling blood was easy.

With only a handful left, they foolishly tried to take her one by one. Planting her feet firmly, Jyn knocked away the closest blaster with a measured thrust. Finishing him was quick. Just as he gave a death rattle, a large form connected painfully with Jyn. One of the Stormtroopers rushed her, colliding and sending her sprawling into the ground. Sharp pain tore through her arm like a knife and she felt her gun wrenched away from her grasp. 

They stood over her now, pointing their blasters, ready to kill her. One of them kicked her in the face, she ignored the pain as her nose spurted blood. She couldn’t see through the blood and smoke, but she felt Cassian’s gaze upon her.

_Look away._

Closing her eyes, Jyn almost welcomed death. At least, she thought, she’d felt a few moments of clarity before the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The next chapter will be up next Sunday, I'm trying to update once a week. I wish I could update more, but between my May the 4th challenge with #therebelcaptainnetwork and the new work I'm writing for Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week on tumblr, it looks like it'll be once a week for Extraordinary for a while longer. 
> 
> Also: I re-arrange the song lyrics in a few of the chapters to better fit the tone, so if you recognize the opening lyrics that is why!


	9. Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers and rage erupt as the _Rogue One_ crew grapples with the aftermath of the recent massacre.

_I never did learn how to follow the rules_  
_I never was good at sleeping while the moon was full_  
_I just lie and burn_  
_Wreck my mind while the planet turns_  
_I sometimes wish I could start again_  
_I'd try and do the right things every now and then_  
_I'd step in line_  
_That's what I would do if I could turn back time_  
_~Brandi Carlile (Hard Way Home)_

As she closed her eyes, the chaos around her quieted, as if every soul in the universe collectively their held their breath. Then across the distance of time and space, she heard Cassian call her name. 

Her eyes flashed open: she’d be damned if she died like this. As blaster bolts soared past her head—their source unclear—she charged the Stormtrooper who had intended to take her life. He might shoot her now, but at least Cassian and Bodhi would watch her die fighting. Throwing her entire weight into his center, she bowled him over. Falling upon him, she scratched and clawed and wrestled his blaster away. Shaking her hair way, she pointed it at him. His friends already lay dead in the ashes. Using the back of her sleeve, she tried to rub the blood and sweat off her face. Instead, it smeared into a twisted, wicked mask. Jyn stood in the ruins, up to her ankles in ash. The dust of the dead picked up on the wind, but she ignored the way it stung her eyes. Voices called for her and she heard footsteps approaching fast. In seconds, she was surrounded by Bodhi, Cassian, Baze, and Chirrut. She silently thanked the Force for Baze’s repeater canon. No wonder the Stormtroopers had fallen so quickly. Still, she did not turn from her prisoner even as they shook her and called her name. 

In her years, Jyn had killed a tremendous number of Stormtroopers. Unlike Cassian, she had perhaps avoided the crushing guilt and shattered humanity because she had never known their faces. It was a small comfort. So why couldn’t she pull the trigger now? She supposed it might be a combination of exhaustion and disbelief. Slowly, she passed Cassian the Stormtrooper’s blaster and turned away at last, leaving him to be finished off by the others.

By now, the smoke burned low as it welcomed the creeping dawn above the mountaintops. Jyn stood among the collapsed and smoldering tents. She wondered: where had everything gone wrong? Why did everything she touched burn? But she knew the answer. Everything had always been wrong, ever since that long away day on Lah’mu. The world never got brighter, not for someone like her. She sat among the ruin, oblivious to those around her until she felt someone sit next to her. Hoping for Cassian, she found Bodhi instead. Taking a grimy cloth from his pocket, he wiped the blood and ash from her face. She caught his eyes staring at her exposed wrists; he counted her track marks. 

“It’s because I left, isn’t it?”

Bodhi’s eyes grew wide, betrying his fear. Sweet Bodhi, who had stayed by her side much longer than he should have. Sweet Bodhi, who she couldn’t let die on her account. Sweet Bodhi, who would die on her account without a second thought.

“No, Bodhi. Not because of you.”

She reached and took his hand, trying to reassure him as best as she could. 

“If you had stayed with me, I would’ve gotten you killed. I was fucking sick before, you had every reason to leave.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t have the energy to argue or convince him.

“We need to go. Now that it is dawn, the Empire will be wondering why their TIE fighters haven’t come back. We need to get off planet as quickly as possible,” Bodhi raised his voice so the others could her, he stretched out a hand, “come on, Jyn.”

Leaning against him, she let Bodhi lend her his strength so she could get back to the ship. 

 

Silence hung in the cabin, thick and impenetrable. No one said a word, but Jyn felt the heavy fog of anger and despair. Bodhi deposited her in the co-pilot chair as he took to the controls, nimbly flipping switched and pushing buttons, determined to see them rescued.

Jyn studied Cassian: he looked even more fatigued than she felt. His eyes looked haunted and distant. He opened his mouth to speak, perhaps to ask a question, when Baze turned on him.

“Do not say a word, Captain.”

“Baze,” Chirrut said calmly as he ripped a length of his cloak to make a bandage, “there’s no need…”

“No need? You brought them here. You and your Alliance.” He spit the words vehemtly in Cassian’s face, barely keeping his hatred in check.

“Baze, it wasn’t his fault. We knew it couldn’t last. It was foolish of us to stay as long as we did.”

Jyn could tell that Chirrut’s attempts would be in vain: Baze might be able to forgive the deaths of the innocents at the camp—he hadn’t enjoyed the place, after all—but Chirrut had been in danger. That was unforgivable. 

“First Jedha, now here! Wherever you go—hell follows you behind.”

Jyn knew it wasn’t fair, not really, it was just as likely her fault or Bodhi’s. Cassian’s face looked stricken, but he didn’t speak to defend himself. Jyn longed to take him aside and comfort him, tell him that Baze was only in shock, that he didn’t mean his words. She knew, however, that her words would bring the man little peace. Cassian always tried to stay a step ahead of his guilt and his shame, but sometimes it caught up and he couldn’t look away.

“You couldn’t leave us alone. You banished us after we helped you, nearly died for your cause after it destroyed Jedha."

“Baze,” Chirrut called quietly, a slight hint of urgency tinging his voice as he sunk to the floor, “don’t.”

In the confined space, Baze could easily attack Cassian and he would have no where to run. Bodhi clutched the controls until his knuckles turned white. Jyn’s eyes flicked between Baze and Cassian.  
“I once thought you had the face of a friend. Now, I think Jyn was right all along. Your Alliance is no better than the Empire.”

Cassian took the words like a body blow; Jyn saw his shoulders visibly slack. The fight had gone out of his body. He slumped against the wall and cast his eyes away. 

_"LOOK AT ME!"_

Cassian didn’t move, didn’t summon the strength to face Baze even as Baze towered over him, his face inched away, daring him to move or lie. If Baze assaulted him now, Cassian wouldn’t fight back. He’d take whatever punishment Baze gave him without complaint. It would take the combined strength of Jyn, Bodhi, and Chirrut to get him off. Cassian didn’t seem to notice the danger. 

“Baze,” Chirrut called once more, weakly from the floor, “help me, please.”

He sat, cross-legged and wary, trying to wrap the bandage around his hands. Jyn could see that they were swollen and blistered red, burned badly in the blaze. Seeing Chirrut's pain, Baze forgot his fury in an instant and knelt down to aid Chirrut. Baze gruffly took the bandage from Chirrut’s hands and wrapped it around his hands.

“Don’t blame the Captain, Baze. It wasn’t his doing,” Chirrut whispered quietly, “it was a good place, but it wasn’t home.”

Jyn didn’t dare ask him where home might be now: they were the shattered remnants of the Alliance and the Empire. They didn’t have home, they barely survived day to day.

Bodhi, perhaps assured that a fight would not break out, focused his attention on the jump to hyperspace. Cassian must have informed him of the headquarter’s location. 

Jyn spun round to ask Cassin bout the location of the base, but she found him gone. Sidestepping a concerned Baze and tenderly smiling Chirrut—still ensconced on the floor—Jyn set off to find him.  


She needn’t look far. Jyn found Cassian in the cargo bay, half sitting, half leaning against one of Bodhi’s crates, a tortured expression on his face. He wrung his hands and stared into space. Approaching silently, she took a seat next to him.

“Are you alright?”

He should’ve snorted indignantly, but still he stared forward. 

“Baze didn’t mean it. He’s upset because Chirrut is hurt, that’s all.”

She pictured it: Baze asleep in their tent, Chirrut, blind and disoriented by the flames, trying wildly to pull Baze from the inferno that surrounded them. Those burns could not have been by accident.

“I know,” Cassian stated, not meeting her eyes, “but he’s still right. The Alliance isn’t what it claims to be, not anymore. These days, it seems like we destroy as much as we save. You’ve said it yourself. The Alliance is almost as much to blame as the Empire.”

Jyn checked him quickly. 

“I don’t have any great love for the Alliance, it’s true. I haven’t had the luxury of fighting for principles and morals in a long time. And from my experience,” she thought now of Saw Gerrera, “even the best of us are corrupted.”

Cassian nodded; Jyn thought he be remembering his own lifeless existence for twenty years. Emptiness and horror were his only companions until _Rogue One_. He and Jyn had both turned to drink and strangers to numb their pain and block out the past. 

“I thought, after Jedha and Eadu, that I believed in the cause. But I think all along, I just believed in you,” Jyn smiled wanly, “I’ve always found it easier to follow a leader rather than a purpose, no matter how flawed they are.”

She’d followed Saw, he’d followed Draven. 

“Might as well die doing something half right.”

Finally, he looked at her. 

“You ran into the fire. Do you want to die, even now?”

“No, I don’t want to die anymore. But I don’t expect to make it out of this alive. People like us don’t get to live long, happy lives.”

  


Later, trusting that flaring tempers had calmed sufficiently, they rejoined the others in the cockpit. Baze kept Bodhi company at the controls, looking vaguely bored with Bodhi’s chattering explanation. Chirrut, always content to find seats in unusual places, hadn’t left his spot on the floor. Despite his injuries, he fiddled with the cloth wrappings on his hands. While Cassian lingered by the doorway, Jyn took a spot on the floor next to Chirrut.

“Hello, Jyn,” Chirrut smiled through his discomfort. Jyn wondered how he could so easily recover from the massacre they’d just witnessed. But then again, he and Baze likely suffered a thousand losses long before Jyn erupted into their lives.

Ordinarily, Jyn would have taken his hand in solidarity. 

“Here, your wrapping is coming undone,” she said, settling instead for fixing his bandage, “let me.”

With a tenderness unusual for Jyn Erso, she took his hand in her own. Ignoring the red stains on the cloth, she retied Baze’s handiwork. 

“Careful now, I don’t want you to injure me worse.” Chirrut teased her, probably hoping to sense a smile, “Jyn Erso, a healer? I never would have thought it.”

“I can do more than hit people with sticks, you know.”

Chirrut chuckled then fell silent, no doubt contemplating the room.

"And don't think I didn't realize what you did earlier with Baze. Your hands are bad, but not enough for you to sink to the floor like that," Chirrut grinned at her, "I should thank you for calling him off Cassian."

“He didn’t mean it, you know,” Chirrut said, inclining his head in Baze’s direction, “I think he liked that place more than he let on. It reminded him of Jedha.”

“Cassian knows.”

Shifting his head slightly, Chirrut considered Cassian in the doorway.

“He found you again. He found us again. It must have taken a lot of searching. Whatever happened before between all of us: none of it matters anymore.”

Jyn hoped it was true, because hope was all she had. Here they stood and sat; they were the broken and embittered foot soldiers in an impossible war. She hoped that she could protect them from her fire, But if her world were to erupt one more in flames, Jyn took comfort in knowing they would be close. In their company—sometimes content, sometimes strained—she didn’t think even for a moment about spice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Just a heads up: I'll be traveling this weekend so I likely won't be updating Sunday. If I'm lucky, I'll update before that but that seems doubtful at the moment (I currently have a 60 page thesis, a 25+ research paper, job applications, and two conference presentations to work on....) so please don't lose heart if it takes a few extra days beyond Sunday to get the next chapter up.


	10. Welcome Back to the Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of _Rogue One_ meets the Alliance's new leadership

_You'll survive anything but this has no end_  
_Oh boy from the North, your hollow soul_  
_It will never feel purposeful_  
_And I know you came with a traveling show_  
_And you started out too young_  
_You could follow me back where we used to meet_  
_Now hear me call from the heart_  
_And you told me your thoughts of your errors and misbehavior_  
_Say it hurts but feels good now on your skin_  
_And how you fight so to win, and I say_  
_Oh why don't you try guarding in_  
_~Boy From The North (Monica Heldal)_

If truth be told, Cassian blamed himself for a great many things, not just the recent massacre. If he tallied up his score of betrayal, murder, and sabotage, he would never be be able to sleep at night. Still, he allowed himself to believe that by bringing the old team back together that he might settle that score and leave the past where it belongs. With Draven gone, at least, he stood a better chance of living up to the rebellion’s ideals. Unfortunately, nothing was ever as simple as the holos he’d once loved as a child.

He’d explained to the others, to the best of his abilities, the current state of the rebellion. They knew about Draven’s death and the general fracturing, but he was not entirely sure he had prepared them for the desolation of their situation. How could he begin to explain _Hoth_ ? The cold creeped into the very marrow of bones; there was no way to escape the frigid air and the deathly quiet of ice and snow.  
Gathering their meager belongings, his once stalwart crew shuffled their way into the bleak, deadened cold. Looking at them now, his bedraggled and damaged crew of misfits hardly fit the template for the galaxy’s greatest heroes. Bodhi and Jyn huddled together for warmth and Baze draped his cloak around Chirrut’s shoulders; Cassian told himself that they were the Rebellion’s only hope left and that surely they would revive the rebellion’s weary heart. 

Slightly uneasy, Cassian knew his moment was coming. He had Princess Leia’s support—she’d asked for Jyn especially. But with each passing day and each failed reconnaissance mission, Leia’s popularity with the remaining rebels dwindled. Cassian regrouped, speaking quietly so they couldn’t be overheard.

“We need to meet with the council…or what’s left of it. I’m vouching for us all, but they’ll likely want to know you’ve been doing all these years, so be careful. Especially with General Rieekan.”

They didn’t argue with him or question his motives, they simply nodded and followed him. Cassian wanted to check on Jyn and make sure she was holding together; her words onboard the ship worried him. She was right, of course: people in their line of work rarely lived long, fulfilling lives. Even so, he did not want to drag her back into a war she was not emotionally prepared to fight. He was going to pull her away from the others, press in close, whisper in her ear, but before he could, he was accosted by the looming form of Kaytoo.

“You’re late, Cassian.”

Groaning, Cassian glared up at the droid. He was beginning to lose all feeling in his fingers. Cassian had brought his parka, but even that was not enough on its own to keep out the chill. 

“We made it back within the timeframe I provided, Kay.”

“Barely. If I had gone with you, this would not have happened. But what do I know?”

“Still going to give me hell for that, are you?”

“Yes. You said you’d be back soon and you lied.”

“We got sidetracked, Kay. It happens.”

“Not if your specialty is strategic analysis.”

“Kay, I would love to listen to you lecture me for the next hour, but it’s fucking cold. Could you do us a favor and get us some blankets before we freeze to death?”

Kaytoo stared blankly at Cassian.

“I’m fine. I won’t freeze.”

“Kay, do you want to know the probability of me shooting you right now?” Cassian asked through chattering teeth.

Kaytoo cocked his head.

“We are friends. Your probability of shooting me is zero percent, Cassian.”

Butting in, Jyn scowled as threateningly as she could, tapping her derringer-blaster against her thigh.

“Her, on the other hand…” 

Kaytoo sighed and turned to alert the proper authorities of their arrival and need of supplies. 

Jyn sidled close and whispered into Cassian’s ear: “Is it too late to go back to Cheyenne?”

Within moments, a crew descended upon them with woolen blankets, quilted vests, and bacta patches. Anonymous rebels pressed hot canteens of cider into their hands and threw layer upon layer of clothing upon them. Gratefully, they wrapped up before entering the base. Disinterestedly, Kaytoo stood idly by and did little to aid them in wrapping up against the cold. Cassian suspected he was looking for an opportunity to begin lecturing him again about promptness.

 

An hour later, slightly warmer but still shivering nevertheless, the Rogue One crew stood before a council of rebellion leaders. They looked as well as they felt and their reputations certainly proceeded them. If he was lucky, their victory on Scarif would carry them through the examination to come. Cassian knew that most of the faces were unknown to his friends and those that were hostile at best, but he hoped all the same that their resolve would not be broken now. 

_Don't count the dead._

Once, the council leadership comprised of dozens of men and women who had bitterly argued, debated, and raged at one another. Now, Cassian thought they looked exhausted. Of the original council, only Carlist Rieekan and Tyrnna Pamlo remained. He’d been reasonable enough in the beginning, but after losing his home planet of Alderaan, the old man had become bitter and angry. Cassian suspected that he blamed Leia for the destruction and had obstructed and undermined her leadership on the council ever since. Every time she set off to locate Han Solo’s whereabouts, her grip on control of the rebellion slacked more and more. Rieekan simply waited for his moment to wrest the reins from her grasp; only Leia and Luke dared to believe that Han was still alive. And now, Luke had disappeared as well into the blackness of space.

Standing before them now in the center of the Echo Base Command Room, she tried to cut an imposing figure in her stark white uniform and her tough stance with hands on her hips. Could she be intentionally invoking the legendary Mon Mothma for her advantage? If so, Cassian knew better: ever since Han Solo was captured, she had lost much of the spirit which had gained her notoriety within the rebellion. Now, it was all she could do to keep her hold on power and keep the splintered factions together. Most of the fleet scattered after one too many defeats and only Luke supported her decisions without question. Leia, for her part, never seemed to sleep. The rumors circulated: those dark circles indicated that she spent her nights wandering the frigid halls of Echo Base.

“You have been called here because this is our most desperate hour. We are all that we have. If this rebellion is to survive, we must work together. We know that the Empire is plotting against us. We know that they mean to destroy us. There are some people on this council,” Leia briefly looked to General Rieekan who glowered disdainfully at her, “who do not believe that I should have reached out to the heroes of Scarif after their…misfortunes. I believe that in our current situation that we need all the heroes that we can get. I am willing to let bygones be bygones and welcome you all back.”

Her voice sounded too formal, too icy, too rehearsed. She tried to make her voice imposing but in the cramped space her voice reverberated weakly.

“Are there any objections from the council?”

The attending leaders—Leia, Rieekan, Admiral Arbus—son of the late Admiral Raddus—, and Tyrnna Pamlo. Of that group, Cassian could not rely on Rieekan or Pamlo. Pamlo, afterall, had decried Jyn’s plan to infiltrate the base on Scarif and refused to go to war. It had taken Mon Mothma’s death and the horror the Death Star wrought to turn her opinion. Even though she now professed loyalty (and had stayed when many had fled), Cassian could not entirely forget her earlier spinelessness. And Rieekan…well, at the moment he quite looked like he’d like to feed Leia to a wampa.

When no one made a move to contradict her, Cassian watched Leia exhale in relief before quickly regaining her composure. 

“That settles that. Now, we’ve heard that you ran into some trouble on Cheyenne, Jyn. What was this about?”

Cassian snuck a glance at Jyn: she hardly commanded the room. Instead, she looked like she wanted to fade into the background. Quickly, he wracked his mind for a suitable excuse.

“Jyn did some undercover work for me, your highness. She knew the local drug runners and fell in with them to gather intelligence for us.”

Jyn looked as shocked as he felt; she wore her surprise openly for only the briefest moment before resuming her mask of indifference. 

“That’s impressive, Jyn. Especially considering the way that we treated you. For that, I am sorry. I was not in charge of the Rebellion. If I had, you and Bodhi Rook never would have been punished.”

Jyn shrugged her shoulders and shifted her footing uncomfortably. 

“That being said, I am bringing you in under the purview of our Head of Intelligence, General Andor. Given your team’s track record, I will not have you on the frontlines of this war. Instead, I want you all—with General Andor—to fight a different sort of war.”

“A different sort of war?” 

Jyn couldn’t help herself: Cassian nearly smiled. Of course, Jyn wouldn’t want to serve in a war that did not involve fighting.

“Yes. A war of information and sabotage. A guerilla war. Our fleet is too weak now to take on the Empire in full assaults,” Leia said wryly, a glimmer of her old spirit rising, “We want our teams, our best teams, to be on the ground under the Empire’s nose. We need to be diplomatic in order to build our forces again, but we can’t afford to stop actively fighting—”

“What can you tell us about the spice trade on Cheyenne?” General Reikan asked, cutting across Leia sharply. The temperature in the room might have dropped a hundred degrees.

“There’s a trafficker on Cheyenne,” Jyn started, then stopped, “there was a trafficker on Cheyenne. She used to keep the business independent, but I found out she was in bed with the Empire.”

“Why is the Empire teaming up with drug runners?” 

“There’s profit in it, your highness.”

“If the empire is relying on spice traffickers, could it mean that some of our circuits are compromised, General Andor?”

“The circuit on Cheyenne is dead. It’s still something to keep an eye on. We’ve been watching developments in the black market for some time. If the Empire has its clutches in the underworld, then they’re having the criminals take the fall for their dirty work. It explains why the Empire’s been looking past blatant drug running and arms dealing: it’s serving some bigger purpose for them.” 

The pieces still didn’t fit for Cassian. Why bother relying on drug dealers to turn a profit in the spice trade when the Imperial war machine already had the wealth of the entire empire at their disposal? 

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’re seeing drugs flowing into new sectors. The Empire has a stake in getting those drugs out. We just don’t know why.”

Leia nodded, contemplating Cassian’s words.

“It’s not much to go on, your highness.”

“General Andor, I can give you the leeway to send out agents to Cheyenne or wherever you see fit. Gather your information and if it plays out, I’ll send your team into the field.”

Later that night, the Rogue One team trundled down the corridors of Echo Base. Cassian found himself utterly exhausted but surprisingly unwilling to part with the others. 

“We rejoined the Rebellion to investigate drug smugglers?” Baze asked gruffly, to no one in particular.

“We rejoined the Rebellion to do something right.” Chirrut corrected mildly.

“Intelligence work isn’t exciting, but it’s useful.” Cassian offered, somewhat lamely. Baze grunted and shrugged, clearly not over the events of earlier in the day. 

Standing in their awkward pod in the hallway, they must have looked ridiculous to anyone watching. Bodhi broke the tension that hung in the air.

“Do we need to call you “General”, too?”

In spite of himself, Cassian grinned. 

“No. But you might want to remember it for Rieekan. He has it out for us.”

“There’s always somebody standing in the way, isn’t there?”

“Welcome back to the Rebellion.”

When they finally parted ways, Cassian was privately relieved that Jyn chose to share a room with him. In truth, he’d been afraid she might rather bunk alone or perhaps with Bodhi. He wasn’t entirely where he stood with Jyn Erso: the lines of their relationship blurred. One moment, they’d be fighting and the next she’d be sharing his bed. As she stripped off her clothes to climb into bed, there were so many things he wanted to ask and to know. As always, however, the right words simply wouldn’t come. They always seemed to bungle the words; it was better to show her with action. Before she’d fully undressed and exposed herself to the cold, Cassian Andor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to the warmth of his body. He wanted to make this work. He didn’t know what “this” meant, exactly. It could be this mission, this relationship, or even the rebellion itself. He supposed it was all intertwined anyway and the success or failure of one would necessitate the success or failure of the rest. The reality of war molded Cassian into a realist and a pessimist, but in that moment as he held her close, he knew her fire had thawed his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up by Sunday, but with my schedule being as crazy as it is (and still not having fully recovered from my illness last month) along with the May the 4th challenge, there might be more delays between chapters. Thanks so much for understanding <3


	11. Guilty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn experiences a restless night, but Cassian is there to help her through it.

_Let me go_  
_Gravity gets us all_  
_Just thought you should know_  
_In tomorrow's morning light_  
_Things will look a lot less frightening_  
_Things will look a lot less frightening_  
_Maybe, just maybe_  
_We could rewrite history_  
_Baby, I'm fading_  
_Oh I could use a little saving_  
_Maybe you could forget what I said_  
_And just hold me instead_  
_So you let me go_  
_I guess I understand I was_  
_The one who told you to, so_  
_The morning came_  
_Just to leave and nothing was ever the same_  
_The same, the same..._  
_~Maybe (Lily Kershaw)_

Staying out of a fight and watching it unfold from afar was the worst kind of agony that Jyn could imagine. Standing shoulder to shoulder with Mon Mothma aboard the _Gauntlet_ , Jyn despaired as TIE fighters tore apart the Rebel fleet. Through the giant viewport, Jyn fought back her fear as a dozen X-Wings exploded in a flash of bright, yellow light. Shaking, she told herself that Cassian would be fine, he would be safe. 

_He always comes back._

She didn’t want to be left alone in her dark cave alone. She couldn’t watch him die again. Jyn stood so close to the viewport that her face nearly touched it. Every time an X-Wing took a hit she winced, every time she saw an explosion aboard an Imperial ship, she felt her stomach drop. If she were in the thick of it she could do something—save someone, save anyone. But like this? She could do nothing but hope and pray. Worst of all: she didn’t know where the people she loved were. Cassian and Kaytoo’s mission had been the most difficult of all: how could they possible extract Tarkin before Luke could destroy the Death Star? Of course, Cassian excelled at surviving suicide missions, but even the best sometimes faltered…

As if sensing her fear, Mon Mothma took her by the hands. If Jyn had ever doubted Mon Mothma’s quiet resolve and strength, she never would again. Silently, Jyn hoped that she could one day lead men the way that Mon Mothma did.

“It never gets easier, Jyn. I’ve watched a half a dozen battles just like this and I never know if we’ll win or we’ll lose. But I do know that I will always survive, even when those I care about may not.”

“How do you do it?”

“I remind myself that we all have the work we do. Leaders in this fight don’t think that I should watch like this—but I can’t let myself forget," Mon Mothma's voice dropped to barely a breath, "I had a pilot once, you know.” Mon Mothma smiled wistfully: Jyn thought she must be imagining stolen hours alone together, when Mon Mothma and her pilot lover could be at peace. Jyn pretended not to think about sharing Cassian’s bed.

“I want to be out there. I wasn’t made to sit on the side while others fight for me.” Jyn offered, moving so close to the viewport as if she could phase through it and join her comrades.

“Pressing your nose against the viewport won’t make it so.” 

Forcing a smile, Jyn turned away. Guarding Mon Mothma had been Draven’s idea. Damn that man. Did he really think she could compromise Cassian’s mission? 

Just then, a voice came over her commlink. Familiar and rugged, she knew it was Cassian at once. He sounded exhausted and afraid, as if each word was wrenched from his body, causing him immense pain. Breathing heavily, his gasping breaths sounded wet and labored, muffling his weak voice.

“Jyn, I’m not gonna make it.”

Panic welled up inside her. For a shocked moment, the din of the battle outside faded. Time stood still while Jyn’s world collapsed around her. She immediately shook away the impending vertigo and began running a million plans through her head: how could she get him out? They didn’t survive Scarif for it to end like this.

“What are you talking about? Of course you’re going to make it. You should be back with Tarkin before they start making the final run on the Death Star.”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her: bogged down in terror and desperation. 

“I’m wounded, Jyn. We couldn’t get to the governor. I’m pinned down—I won’t make it out in time…tell them to make the trench run now before they miss the chance…”

Over the link, she heard him coughing. His voice grew softer with each jagged breath, ripping a hole in Jyn’s heart. 

“I’m not gonna tell them anything.”

“Jyn,” he pleaded, the brave, bold face gone completely now, “this isn’t about you or me. It’s bigger. It’s so much bigger…”

“Dammit Cassian, I won’t let you kill yourself when I can easily just get you out!”

Voice breaking, heart breaking, she clung to whatever thought she could. Her vision blurred with tears and dizziness: she focused only on his voice, on him: as long as kept talking he was alive. 

“Don’t, please,” his voice sounded different now: he was almost laughing at that stubbornness he loved, “I ran out of time...I am so s—" He wavering voice gave way to the sound of garbled hacking.

Jyn waited until his coughing fit subsided.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence answered her. Jyn found that unacceptable: he had never left her before and she wasn’t about to let him start now.

“Cassian! _Cassian Andor!_ "

Mon Mothma must think her insane.

“Cassian is unresponsive, but alive with a weak pulse of forty-five beats per mit. Cassian and I are taking heavy fire I can’t risk moving him: we made it to the main control room of the Death Star. The target fled, locking himself in a safe room. All other targets have been neutralized but they called for backup. Cassian’s probability of survival without immediate intervention is 5%. If you can, I would recommend immediate extraction but your probability of success in current conditions is only 13% and dropping.” 

Kaytoo had never sounded more serious—or more terrified—to Jyn. Gone were his wisecracks and his sarcasm: he did not expect to survive the fight, but he would do whatever he could to save Cassian. An unprecedented wave of affection rushed over Jyn for the caustic droid. 

Her mind turned to a plan. Running over the best possible scenario, she knew that her plot required more than just Jyn with a blaster, a truncheon, and her reckless anger.

I’ll grab Bodhi, he’s stationed on duty at the hangar bay, Baze and Chirrut in reserve guarding him…

When she heard a stirring sound behind her, Jyn’s first impulse was to draw her blaster and point it at the offender, a gravely concerned Mon Mothma. She put her hands up.

“Jyn, you don’t need to shoot your way out of here.”

“I won’t shoot you,” Jyn whispered, but without lowering her arm, “but I can’t stay. I can’t let him die.”

“I know. I had known him before, my pilot, when we were children on Chandrila. I told myself that we would return there together after all this was over. He took took a mission on my orders and he never came back,” Jyn didn’t understand the purpose of this story: every second Mon Mothma spent reminiscing about her lost love was a second that Cassian crept closer to death, “So go: save him while you can! I can use a blaster, I’ll protect myself.”

Mon Mothma clutched her immaculate white robes around herself in comfort. Unseen memories of the past clouded her eyes with tears.

“Go, Jyn. It’ll be alright.”

But what would be alright? The outcome of the battle? Cassian? Mon Mothma herself? Jyn didn’t have time to consider this or even whisper a “thank you”, but Jyn nodded and took off running. After she’d saved Cassian and Kaytoo, she could thank Mon Mothma. Dashing through hallways, Jyn pushed her way roughly past bumbling droids and scrambling rebels alike. She fought back the urge to use her truncheons to expedite the process. Already at the least she was looking at a court martial for dereliction of duty. But none of that mattered now if she could get to Cassian in time.

 

When she explained to Baze, Bodhi, and Chirrut—in her broken, disjointed, desperate words—they dropped everything. Even Bodhi, who had never fired a blaster, grabbed one from a passing soldier and held it with feigned confidence. Bluffing their way onboard a Mankim-814, Jyn turned control of the vessel over to him as she explained her plan: 

“We need to take out the shields on the hangar bay quickly: we don’t have time for stealth. Cassian and Kay are pinned down inside the control room of the Death Star, they couldn’t extract Tarkin. It’s a lost cause, our only goal is to get Cassian and Kay out before they attempt a run on the trench.”

Chirrut nodded and rested his weight against his staff.

“We won’t have much time. What should we do, Jyn?”

“Stay with the ship and keep Bodhi safe. In the chaos, I can make it to the control room on my own.”

Jyn did not know if this was true, but saying it aloud gave her determination. With her at Kaytoo’s side, they could get Cassian out together.

“Don’t let any grenades near me,” Bodhi joked from the controls as he started the Mankim. “Jyn, can you man the gun?”

Sitting in the co-pilot chair, Jyn felt a surge of adrenaline. 

Once more, she was in the fight and she felt alive. Cassian was only a short flight and a short run away. Foolishly, she let herself feel hopeful. With Bodhi at the helm, they artfully dodged fire from TIE fighters circling like birds of prey. Jyn looked away as an X-wing from Blue Team took a direct hit from a turret and fell into a tailspin, colliding with the side of the Death Star in a bright explosion of light. They would need to make that trench run soon before Empire annihilated their entire fleet.

No doubt distracted by the meddlesome X-Wings and the Rebel fleet, Bodhi navigated their spacecraft nimbly through the field. With a few well-timed shots from their gun, Jyn saw the hangar bay shields collapse. Without waiting for a word from the others, Jyn charged out as soon as they landed. Baze and Chirrut spilled out behind her, ready to join the fray.

Blaster at the ready, Jyn took a potshot at a fleeing Stormtrooper. With a screech of pain, he crumpled to the ground. Still, he tried to crawl away. She needed information, fast. Dragging him to his feet, she forced his back against the hangar bay wall.

“The control room. Where is it?”

He only gurgled in response. Incensed, she ripped off his helmet and flung it away. His large black, almond-shaped eyes dilated with fear but fixated hazily on her face; she could see that he was fading fast. Blood trickled from his parched lips down his chin. Jyn did not care: again she slammed him against the wall, more violently this time. She’d make sure his last moments were meaningful.

“Where is Governor Tarkin?”

“T-t-take the lift. T-t-take it now. Leave me here.” His eyes unfocused, slipping in opposite directions; she slugged him across his face.

“All the way up?”

“Y-y-yes. All the way up.”

She relaxed her grip slightly.

“P-p-p-lease. Don’t l-l-eave me here to d-d-die.”

“I don’t care what happens to you.”

“Then _shoot_ m-me-me.” 

Wherever her blaster bolt hit him, the pain dragged him from reality to somewhere distant, all he knew and felt was unending pain. In the clutches of pure agony, he begged her for a mercy that no Stormtrooper deserved. Pressing her blaster against his chest, she didn’t register the rapport or the sound when she pulled the trigger and he slipped from her grasp.

In the lift, she allowed herself a moment to breath. As she pressed the proper buttons, she finally noticed the drying blood on her hands. Absentmindedly, she wiped them on her pants. Jyn ignored her jittery nerves and let the adrenaline sweep over her body as she did with every battle. She denied her body the urge to rest; from experience, Jyn knew that the moment she let herself rest that she would lose her edge.  
Halfway up, Bodhi’s panicked voice came over her comm link:

“Jyn, they’re making the run in five minutes.”

Then she heard Chirrut’s soothing tones: “We’ll stay with you until the very end.”

Baze didn’t say anything, but she imagined him grunting in agreement. Any other time it might have made her laugh, but now she knew that she could never thank them. Instead, Jyn knew her day of reckoning had come at last. She dodged it on Scarif, but death, relentless, returned once more to claim its prize…

The short ride up felt like the passage of a lifetime.

When the doors clicked open, she burst forth like a vengeful spirit. Her blaster was trained and ready and her dependable truncheons were within reach. As she barreled forward, screaming and crying, Jyn unleashed her raging wrath against those in her path: firing wildly, swinging with the entire force of her body, Stormtroopers fell before her. Through the chaos, she could hear her own heart beat a violent tattoo as it resonated in her ears: less than five minute to get Cassian and get out.

Jyn took a breath and aimed to kill: this work required precision. Down the hallway, bright red lights flickered in a dark, paneled room. 

_Could it be?_

An idiot Stormtrooper threw a grenade her way: she kicked it back, aiming for a cluster of troopers. He and three comrades disappeared in a cloud of thick, black smoke as they let loose strangled screams. Sprinting forward, shot their feebly stirring, mangled bodies for good measure. Nearly slipping upon the pools of thickly spilling blood, she regained her footing and continued on until she reached the black-paneled control room at the end of the corridor.

Black armor-clad Imperials littered the floor, unmoving. Her eyes found Kaytoo, huddled over Cassian’s prone form, beating his chest, urgently trying to jumpstart his heart. Jyn was outside her body yet still trapped within her own mind, the very worst place to be. She was too late. She had failed, and now they would die for her sins. As she rushed to his side, the room filled with the brightest light she had ever seen.

_I’ve damned them all as well as myself._

Jyn Erso flung herself out of bed; in spite of the deathly chill in the air, sweat dripped off of her, soaking through the mattress. Jyn skidding across the floor in her bare feet to the bathroom and the toilet. She retched viciously, holding back her own hair and gasping with each excruciating spasm. Even after she had vomited her last, she stayed there until her knees ached and the cold closed in upon her. She wiped her mouth with a towel, and was startled to find tears mingled there.

Jyn wanted nothing more to curl up and fall into the deepest sleep, but she knew that nightmares would hound her relentlessly. She didn’t want to remember the grand feeling of victory as she rescued Cassian and Kay just before the final explosion; she didn’t want to remember the joy shattering as she was clapped in stun cuffs and lead to Mon Mothma’s still-warm body. Jyn recalled the blaster wound to Mothma’s head: dark and black and oozing blood all over her white robes. 

_Self-inflicted_ , they said. 

_You left her alone and when she heard the boarding party coming for her, she did the only thing she could. She knew too much. She might’ve lived if you’d just done your job._

Jyn yearned to drown away in the guilt. She lifted her eyes upwards, beseeching an empty heavy. She saw nothing, she felt nothing. No reassuring voice called her named. The kyber crystal hung limply on her chest, offering no atonement or security. The realities from which she had run for years reached out their sharp claws and dug deeply into her flesh, wrenching out her heart. It should have been Jyn’s blood, but instead it was Mon Mothma’s. Once more, Jyn averted death but redirected its grasping, ruthless desire at another. Mon Mothma was yet another sacrifice. Jyn would do anything to numb the pain, to forget. Lying with her back against the floor, cold and naked, Jyn could not ease her own suffering.

Jyn heard his footfalls before Cassian appeared, kneeling down beside her. Carefully, tenderly as he might a child, he took Jyn in his arms and wrapped her in a blanket. He carried her back to their bed, but he did not release her. He asked no questions, he demanded nothing.

She whispered into the dark: “I thought I lost you again.” 

For the briefest moment, just as Jyn had on Cheyenne when he’d found her broken in the alleyway, she allowed him to see through her tough façade to witness the terrified, once-innocent girl who hid underneath.


	12. Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Restless, Jyn explores the cavernous and cold corridors of Echo Base. In her wanderings, however, she makes an unlikely ally.

_Steady, steady, steady_  
_You steady touch our love so much, I'm sleepless_  
_Oh God, oh God, oh God_  
_God, I'm only human and I'm helpless_  
_Steady, steady, steady_  
_You steady touch our love so much, I'm sleepless_  
_Rabbit in a snare, why you sleeping softly in your bed?_  
_When unruly wild blood is pumping, why you running scared?_  
_Why you running scared?_  
_Rabbit in a snare, why you sleeping softly in your bed?_  
_Why you running scared?_  
_~Steady (The Staves)_

Jyn didn’t mention her nightmare and Cassian knew better than to ask. Some memories were simply better unshared, left in the past where they belonged. The problem with ignoring such memories, Jyn thought, was that carrion had the tendency to rot. The corruption and the darkness clawed at her edges, threatening to drag her scrambling body back into the abyss. Her only escape was to wander; she fell into her old routine of outpacing that which hounded her. 

After Cassian fell back to sleep, she had left them in bed and wandered the frigid halls. In a moment of compassion, she pulled the quilts up over his neck and lingered for a moment to listen for his deep, rhythmic breathing. Would he reach for her when he awoke, only to find an empty bed? He probably would not even be surprised, just disappointed. Jyn didn’t want to consider why the thought made her sad. 

The temperature and the climate could not be more different, but her mind continuously flitted back to the days she had spent on Cheyenne. Somehow, despite the drugs, she could view those days with a greater clarity. She almost missed the scent of moonshine and boot leather. Almost. At least she knew where she stood in those days; she knew better to trust any of those traders and crooks. Here, the betrayal was bureaucracy and the enemies were called allies. If she wasn’t careful, she might start trusting them again. Leia’s talk of bygones reminded her with a twinge of that day, eons ago it seemed, when the Alliance had wanted to mend broken trust with Saw. Where had that trust gotten any of them? Some sins could not entirely be forgiven or forgotten. Jyn settled for moving on.

Moving on was well and good, but she should have at least grabbed an extra parka from Cassian before she snuck out. Jyn knew it would hurt him to awake that morning without her, but it would certainly hurt him more if she froze to death before dawn. Accommodating others proved difficult for her still and falling asleep beside him, though not unpleasant, infringed upon the privacy and isolation upon which she had long relied. Even when she had Bodhi had spent restless, harsh spent nights without a roof over their heads, she never quite adapted to sleeping back-to-back wherever they sought shelter. 

At least Jyn would know the layout of Echo base well before morning. Back and forth she retraced her steps through each wing, memorizing each possible avenue of escape. She mentally noted the rooms of Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze, and even Kaytoo. In the case of an emergency—which, admittedly, seemed highly likely given the circumstances—she knew her priorities. 

Jyn rubbed her hands together and blew into them: a pathetic attempt at warming herself. She did not much like the cold. Especially not this kind of cold that crept gently into her bones and settled there in her very marrow. Jyn didn’t like the cold to make itself at home in her body, but at least she could feel something again. How long had she wandered, crossing the galaxy, refusing to feel a thing? 

How long had Cassian? She felt like the shattered shell he had been when they first met. At some point in the past three years, though, he’d shifted: he had found something to live for besides the cause or the next mission. Jyn recognized that he had begun to change when he met her, but admitting that truth was a bitter pill to swallow. Suddenly, Jyn was overcome with the desire to return to their warm bed. If she turned back now, she could make it before daybreak. Slipping between the covers would be easy, he was a heavy sleeper and he would never be the wiser. She could prove to him that she really could change, that she deserved him, and that he deserved her. Jyn kept walking.

Eventually, practicality would force her to return. If she continued like this, early risers would begin appearing in the hallways. She’d have to explain her presence. She’d have to talk. Neither of those options appealed to her particularly, however, Cassian had seen her weak and broken. Undoubtedly, seeing her sprawled in the bathroom reminded him of Cheyenne. Jyn couldn’t take his sympathetic eyes and his gentle touch, however much she yearned for it. Not right now. Not when Mon Mothma’s final words still rang in her ears. 

But then was it Mon Mothma she heard? Or someone else?

Jyn stopped in the center of the hallway and held her breath. Sure enough, the tiniest sound echoed off the chambered, icy walls surrounding her. Straining her ears against the beckoning silence, Jyn heard the whispered, repeated “no, no, no, no… _no_ .” Following the noise, she found the source around a bend in the tunnel: Leia Organa sat with her back against the wall, sunk down weakly with her face in her hands.

The world seemed so imposingly large and yet so intimately insignificant. Quite easily, Jyn could turn and leave Leia there. Even if Leia saw her leave, the Princess would likely be ashamed and never bring it up, anyway. 

“No, no, no…no I killed him.” 

_Why am I still here?_

Jyn felt no true loyalty to Leia. But she could appreciate her spirit and maybe understand just a little bit of the weight of the responsibility placed upon her thin shoulders. Jyn knew the feeling of losing one’s lover distincitively. Clearly, the loss weighed heavily on the Princess. It couldn’t be helping her decision-making, and if Rieekan at the council meeting had been any indication, the other leaders would not let her forget it. Jyn could not tell if she trembled from the cold or from her own tears. Either way, Leia shook violently. Leia forgot a coat, too. Without sparing another thought, Jyn sunk down onto the balls of her feet, down to Leia’s level.

“Princes… _Leia?_ ” 

Startled, Leia might have jumped a mile. She looked mildly relieved at the sight of Jyn: looking weak to a nobody like Jyn was embarrassing, but looking weak to someone like Rieekan would be shameful. Leia’s grip on the rebellion felt loose enough already.

“Erso…I wasn’t expecting anyone at this time of night.”

“Evidently,” In spite of herself, Jyn smiled slightly. She looked away for a brief moment, giving the Princess the opportunity to straighten herself up and snatch back a bit of pride, “so why are you out here alone?”  
Jyn didn’t know why she was doing this; she had no patience to coddle the privileged. But then again, Jyn had been crying herself not long ago. Leia brushed her hair out of her eyes, wiped her eyes discreetly, and relaxed her limbs. If she hadn’t known better, Jyn might have thought she just chose this corridor for a brief rest. Jyn could have snorted: Leia’s ability to regain her composure was impressive. How many times had leading the rebellion required her to do this? Leia couldn’t be much younger than Jyn herself and yet Leia had not run away as Jyn so often had. Astonishingly, she felt a surge of respect for Leia. 

“I go wandering at night. I need to…get away.”

_And your bed feels empty._

“You really shouldn’t be out here alone, you know. If someone else had found you here…”

“You mean if Rieekan had found me? Yes, he would love to gloat about how weak-willed I am.”

Although rimmed in red and puffy, Leia’s eyes shone with the lucidity of defiance. Her voice quivered slightly, but she masked it with frustration and righteous anger. 

“I think it would be a shame if they underestimated you like that.”

“A shame?” Leia laughed without a hint of warmth or humor. “I try to use it to my advantage.”

Jyn stopped herself from asking how that was currently working out for her, but thought better of it. A shared moment of emotion in an ice hallway hardly made them friends, it just made them uncomfortable strangers. There were still boundaries to maintain. 

“You don’t think I’m doing a good job of this, do you?” 

Leia’s voice was flat, but not accusatory. Jyn didn’t know how to respond. Once again, Leia laughed her mirthless, hollow laugh.

“I was sleeping with Han Solo. I’m used to someone telling me when they think I’m wrong.”

Her tone sounded scathing, but Jyn detected a note of wistfulness. Like Jyn, Leia was loathe to admit her feelings. Also like Jyn, Leia was terrible at ignoring it. 

“You’re the leader of the rebellion. Strong arm them. Don’t let them mock you behind your back or at council. You don’t need to be diplomatic anymore with these fucks. Mon Mothma tried that and look…” Jyn swallowed hard and looked away.

Leia’s eyes searched her face, as if she was deciding how much she should trust Jyn and what she should not divulge.

“I don’t know what to think of you, Jyn Erso. I know what you did—I know what Draven said you did.”

“I did it. Mon Mothma died because of me.”

Leia nodded, but she didn’t seem terrible bothered: the words were not a revelation. This woman was tougher than Jyn had imagined. 

“I thought he might have told the truth about that. Jyn, we don’t need to like each other. We just need to work together if we want to come through. I want to know that I can rely on you and your team. I know that I can trust Cassian; he proved his loyalty to me when he found you.”

“I think he had ulterior motives there, Princess.”

For the first time, Leia grinned.

“Yes, I suppose he did. But he still brought you all back here. Somehow, he convinced you all that this was where you were needed, after everything we put you through.”

“I wasn’t exactly winning any medals,” Jyn kept her tone light, but thinking about Mon Mothma hurt like a carving knife slashed through her spine. 

“I’ve always found that it’s the ones you least expect who deserve them the most. Luke, Han…”

Her voice trailed off on his name, as if she was unwilling to let the sound of it go. His name continued to quietly reverberate off the frozen walls, as if enduring for her comfort. 

“I think you’re wrong about him,” Jyn whispered, “I don’t think that Han is dead. If Cassian could find me, you can find him.”

 

Jyn sat with Leia for a while, even after they both lapsed into silent companionship. Eventually, however, they both verged on becoming frostbitten. Weariness tugged at Jyn, reminding her that she had not slept uninterrupted in days. Dutifully, Jyn walked Leia back to her room, barely concealing a yawn as the Princess bade her goodnight and disappeared. Jyn stumbled blindly back to Cassian’s room, ignoring the greetings thrown her way by curious and overly friendly strangers. There was only one place she wanted to be. Settling down in the bed beside Cassian, Jyn allowed herself the small pleasure of wrapping her arms around him while she pressed a kiss to his shoulder blade.

“You left.”

His tone was neither cross nor friendly. Instead, it sounded defeated. Jyn tightened her hold upon him. She would change for him; he hadn’t dragged her through hell for nothing. 

“I’m back now, though. We have the entire morning to ourselves.”

Jyn would deny her need to sleep for him. She pressed another kiss to his back, making her intent clear.

“A friend needed me, that’s all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Sorry for the delay! I'm aiming again for Sunday, but will update my tumblr if that changes. The next chapter will probably be really long (about half of it has been written for a couple of months now!), so it *might* need to be split into two chapters, depending on how it goes. I hope you enjoyed <3


	13. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn struggles with sleep deprivation, meanwhile the Alliance receives an unexpected guest.

_The lights went out across the world_  
_And your house of cards came tumbling down_  
_'Cause nothing stays and noting sticks_  
_When you're rolling with the lunatics_  
_But my star in the darkest sky_  
_Twinkles and watches while the other stars die_  
_Upon your empty ears and empty hearts_  
_But I'll be free for what I believe_  
_And I won't sell my soul just to achieve my goal_  
_And I've been holding back the tears, dreaming all these years_  
_And I sing from the heart if you'll listen to me,_  
_Everything I do is what I believe_  
_~The Furthest Star (Amy MacDonald)_

Late that morning, Jyn sat with Baze, Chirrut, and Bodhi in the mess hall as they shared a bleak breakfast. Hungry as she might be, her need for sleep was far more pressing than her desire for food. She also admitted privately that quick-pack meals fried in tauntaun fat with a side of stale bread and washed down with melted ice wasn’t the most appetizing meal. Even on Cheyenne she could occasionally rustle up a decently cooked ration. And when there wasn’t food, there was booze. Jyn warily ate a few bites here and there, but she longed for the comfort of a bed and a few hours of time alone. Still, Jyn knew that she worked best while well-fed. She’d spent enough nights hungry to know better than let her own exhaustion completely overtake her judgement.

For once, Jyn was glad for Bodhi’s distracting chattering. As long as he kept talking, the others would not be asking her questions or expecting her to make small-talk. Her morning with Cassian had developed as she had intended, but she sorely regretted not having properly slept the night before. The edges of her mind felt foggy: when had she last slept? 

Discreetly, Jyn tried to rub the weariness from her eyes. Beside her, she noticed the slightest smile on Chirrut’s face. She stifled a yawn; at least Chirrut couldn’t judge the bags underneath her eyes.

“Late night or early morning?”

_Damn him._

Jyn delayed speaking by taking an enthusiastic swig of water from her cup. She swallowed too forcefully, choking and sputtering. Baze clapped a hand to her back, but instead of helping it only exacerbated her general soreness and exhaustion. She mustered the strength to speak.

“A bit of both, actually. What gave it away?”

“You have been fighting back a yawn since you got here.” Chirrut smiled serenely and refilled Jyn’s cup and casually nudged it in her direction.

“And you’ve got a little something right here.” Bodhi tugged briefly at the high collar of his quilted coat. 

“Stuff it, Bodhi.” Jyn grumbled through a mouthful of dry toast.

All the same, she pulled the neck of her own coat closer to hide the marks from the early hours of the dawn. Back on Cheyenne, such marks meant nothing: she’d given herself over to the night and to strangers too many times to count. Nobody cared if she bedded down with a different smuggler every night. But here? She needed to feign respectability for as long as possible. One wrong move could bring the whole thing down; if Jyn was good at anything, it was causing mass destruction. She wouldn’t risk it over a hickey.

_At least Kaytoo isn't here._

While Bodhi might tease her once or twice in his own sweet way, Kaytoo would hound her relentlessly until Cassian made him stop. She stabbed a chunk of the quick-pack with her fork, a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. If Jyn was honest, she had hoped that Scarif would change the nature of her relationship with Kaytoo. If they could not be friendly, they could at least be tolerable. She stabbed another chunk, scratching the tines across the metal plate. After all, he had seemed pleased when she handed him her own blaster. But Jyn should have known better: she was neither a people person nor a robot person. 

“Little sister, who are you trying to kill?”

Jyn looked up from her plate to Baze, recognizing at once that she must have been glowering as she angrily stabbed at her food.

“Did you not know, Baze? Jyn’s gone a day without a fight. She had to take out her frustration on something. Personally, I’m glad it wasn’t me.”

“It’s not too late, you know.” 

“At least it would give your poor plate a break.”

Jyn threw her fork at him, only a little out of frustration. Try as she might, she had trouble even now being angry at Bodhi. He’d put up with her and come back with her all the same. Ignoring the rush of affection she felt for him, she continued to fake a scowl. Chirrut smiled his blithe smile, his grey eyes almost twinkling. Desperate to change the subject—hopefully to a subject about which she need not participate—Jyn glanced quickly about the room for inspiration.

The mess hall on Yavin IV had frequently been lively and crowded; rebels, pilots, spies, and politicians all congregated, drank, and ate their fill. The frozen world of Hoth, apparently, was not quite so hospitable: out of a dozen long tables, only half were in use. The rebels who sat around did not look particularly cheerful to Jyn. A few of them bore the obvious markers of a recent skirmish: one pilot’s bandage was beginning to fray, a woman leaned heavily on her friend, too exhausted to bring a fork to her own mouth. Another man sat alone with nothing but a mug of caf for company; he had wrapped his arms around himself and rocked slightly. The sight of it all hit a little too close to home. How many nights had she stumbled home, traumatized and ill, begging for anything to take the pain away?

If she wanted to stay clean, was this really the place to be?

“A shadow surrounds you, Jyn.”

As much as she appreciated his company, Jyn didn’t need to be reminded of what she already knew.

“It’s that man over there,” she tilted her head towards the man sitting alone. She didn’t need to whisper, for her voice was already weak with fatigue. “he’s been sitting alone this entire time. I think he might be shaking.”

Wordlessly, Bodhi drained his cup and stood up.

“Can’t leave him alone,” Bodhi timidly offered by way of explanation before heading over and taking a seat by the man’s side. She heard Bodhi’s gentle murmurs, heard him go up to the serving line to get the man some actual food.

“What’s really troubling you, Jyn?”

“Just got a little too caught up in the past, I guess,” 

Jyn did not like that there were now so many people in the world who could read her easily. That was the danger of letting people in, she supposed. Before Rogue One, had she truly let anyone know her? She thought that Saw knew her—but he’d left her. She’d thought she knew herself, but then she’d betrayed her own self-preservation instincts for people she barely knew. And now those people surrounded her. The thought might have made her happy, if she had the energy to muster emotion. 

“You weren’t undercover for Cassian back on Cheyenne, were you?”

Jyn managed to meet his eyes. She was too exhausted to attempt a lie. Chirrut knew the truth already, she suspected. Her words came out a little too flat, a little too emotionless, but she lacked the fortitude to mind.

“No, I wasn’t. I got in too deep and couldn’t get myself back out again. It fucked me up for a long time but Cassian found me and got me out.”

Chirrut didn’t seem particularly bothered by the particulars, Jyn guessed that Bodhi might have discreetly informed Chirrut and Baze on the details of Jyn’s misadventures. She found that she didn’t evem mind if they knew, and she was sure it was not just her need for sleep. None of them, she supposed, had lived perfectly unblemished lives: if anything, their profound discontent and melancholy bound them together. They’d suffered together. They’d nearly died together on Jedha, on Scarif, at that burning campsite… 

Jyn tried to puzzle it over. She wanted to consider how all of their lives might have turned out had Cassian not dragged her out of obscurity all of those years ago. Unfortunately, her fuzzy, sleep-deprived mind did not want to pull the pieces together. All she could figure through the thickening fog was that their lives intersected on Jedha and she knew that no matter how far she tried to run—if she ever ran again—their lives would go on intersecting. 

Jyn couldn’t fight the next yawn that wracked her body. In truth, she wanted to place her head upon Chirrut’s shoulder. In public, however, she settled for resting a bit of her weight upon him instead. She wasn’t used to leaning on people. If someone asked her, she’d deny that she liked it.

A few moments later, Chirrut shifted on the bench and Jyn jolted awake. She did not even know when she fell asleep. 

“I’m fine!” 

Baze chuckled at her insistence.

“Nobody said that you weren’t.”

Chirrut reached out and took her hand, rapping her knuckles with his own.

“Sleep and rest are what you need,” Chirrut encouraged, “do not run yourself ragged on our account, Jyn. No one expects you to win the war in a day.”

“I’d hate to disappoint,” gathering what little strength remained, Jyn rose from her spot on the bench, “don’t let me sleep until next week, will you?”

“No promises.”

Sluggishly, Jyn made her way to the door. Before she could make it over the threshold, however, a bedraggled man rushed into the room, shoving her roughly out of the way in his haste. Gasping for breath, he choked out words that pushed all thoughts of sleep from Jyn’s mind:

“I need to speak with General Andor. _NOW_ !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys! I ended up cutting this chapter in half for length and pacing, I hope you don’t mind.


	14. Danger Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian and Jyn find themselves in a stand-off with a former ally...

_Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and_  
_Wouldn't you love to love her?_  
_Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and_  
_Who will be her lover?_  
_All your life you've never seen_  
_A woman taken by the wind_  
_Would you stay if she promised you heaven?_  
_Will you ever win?_  
_She is like a cat in the dark and then_  
_She is the darkness_  
_She rules her life like a fine skylark and when_  
_The sky is starless_  
_~Rhiannon (Stevie Nicks)_

When Cassian heard his name shouted over the commlink, he had the eerie premonition that this, like all other recent emergencies and disasters in his life, must somehow involve Jyn Erso. Without sparing a moment for the scandalized faces of the council—or Kaytoo’s reproachful scoff—Cassian took off running. 

He found them in the mess hall, a ragged and desperate young man with a blaster trained on an unarmed Jyn. She stood there, commanding his attention, with her hands up and her eyes defiant. The others in the room stood to the sides, afraid to interfere but inexplicably drawn to the ruckus. Bodhi, Chirrut, and Baze clearly wanted to intercede; only Chirrut’s calming arm on Baze’s sleeve kept him on the margins.

“I need to see General Andor _NOW!_ "  
“What the hell’s going on here?"

The man pivoted and aimed his weapon at Cassian. Taken aback, Cassian knew that face.

“Zam?”

Zam Baldrek was a young rebel, recruited by Cassian himself. He should still be deep undercover halfway across the galaxy. It did not reflect well on his character, or Cassian’s for that matter, for him to return so soon and cause a scene.

A look of recognition flickered in Zam’s blue eyes. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, leaving nothing but a vacant expression. Cassian had less than a fraction of a second to realize that Zam meant to shoot him. Cassian ducked and tumbled away just as Zam opened fire. A streak of gray flashed across Cassian’s vision; Jyn, Bodhi, and Baze at once rushed Zam and tackled him to the ground. Bodhi wrested the blaster away and trained it on Zam carefully, just as Cassian had once taught him. 

In his moth-ridden rags, Zam struggled against the weight of the bodies. Gone was the vacant look, it had been replaced by a wildness. He kicked and struggled, but still they held on. Chirrut pulled Cassian to his feet. Righting himself and pulling his coat straight, Cassian adopted the gait and demeanor he usually reserved for interrogations. 

“Who sent you? Who turned you?”

Jyn held the man in a vice grip. An ugly, angry bruise began to rise and purple around Zam’s eye from where Jyn slugged him with her elbow.

“I stationed you in the Taramik sector. What happened there? When was your last contact with the Empire?”

Typically, Cassian did not lay hands on his prisoners. This man practically begged for hard treatment. How would it look to the council if one of his own spies turned assassin? Jyn cracked his front teeth with her fist, ignoring the horrified gasps of the slowly gathering crowd. None of the onlookers cared to intervene. Years of terror and trauma numbed them all. One man still sat at his bench, rocking back and forth and moving his lips without speaking. Cassian’s stomach lurched and he turned his attention back to Zam.

“What did they tell you? How did they threaten you?”

Zam had been inexperienced, certainly, but Cassian never would have sent him into the field if he wasn’t prepared for what might happen. All of his spies knew their duty: they ended their lived long before the enemy could corrupt them. 

The eyes of the would-be assassin remained blank and empty. Baze shook him roughly, but no amount of physical force seemed enough to crack whatever had come over him. He swayed a little despite the bodies supporting him and he continued to stare straight ahead. 

_As if...as if..._

Cassian clutched Zam’s arm and shoved back the sleeve of his coat and shirt, revealing his arms and the needle prick marks upon them in haphazard lines. Jyn noticed too; Cassian felt the heat of her eyes upon him, scorching his skin. 

“What did they do to you?”

Instead of answering, Zam frothed at the mouth. For the briefest moment, Cassian stood in a confused panic like all the rest. His spy instincts quickly took and he jumped into action. As the others moved Zam onto his back, Cassian slipped a hand into his personal transponder, searching for his poison antidote pill. Instead, he only found his own lullaby pill, small and cold to his touch. 

_Dammit._

He’d used his only antidote pill on Jyn, and never bothered to replace it. Ordinary pilots and soldiers wouldn’t carry antidote; only Alliance spies, at Cassian’s behest, were given such a luxury as antidote to poison.  
“He must’ve swallowed it when we tackled him.”

But Cassian didn’t hear: he could only watch as the dying man writhed and kicked his legs, his limbs twisting grotesquely in pain. Jyn and Baze let go of him and backed away, barely hiding their sickened expressions as they turned away. Zam’s eyes grew wide in the final seconds of his life, as if his humanity reappeared for an instant in his body. Through his drugged stupor—or the pain of death—he stretched an arm out in Cassian’s direction before it fell limply at his side. 

 

Later, surrounded by the leading members of the council, Cassian struggled to explain what transpired in the mess hall. It wasn’t the first inquiry levelled against him, after all, he had faced rebuke after Jyn and the others escaped. An assassin attempt—nearly brought to fruition at the Rebel base, no less—struck fear, panic, and outrage into all of their hearts. Normally well composed and stoic, even Cassian had to admit his nerves were rattled. 

To make matters worse, Kaytoo hadn’t let him alone since they’d dragged Zam’s body away. For hours now, he’d hovered just feet from Cassian, shooing away anyone who might pose a threat to Cassian’s safety. Even surrounded by the council leaders, locked away from the rest of the Alliance, Kaytoo kept a careful eye on Cassian, never leaving his side and not allowing Jyn Erso even a moment alone to speak with him. 

The council questioned him for hours, grilling him on the intimate details of all members of his spy network. They, like him, feared that if one member could be turned against them that the rest might quickly follow suit. Even Leia, who had supported some of Cassian’s more unorthodox choices enthusiastically, spoke with a waver in her voice denoting her own fear. Tyrnna Pamlo, always cautious, quite looked like she regretted her decision not to cut and run before Scarif all those years ago. Rieekan, on the other hand, seemed determined to undermine Cassian and Leia at every turn. Only Admiral Arbus, like his father before him, seemed entirely in support of Cassian’s leadership.

“If they’ve turned this man, who’s to say they haven’t turned the rest?”

Pamlo stood with a back straight as wire, but she wrung her hands all the same. 

“We cannot turn tail in run, not after all we’ve lost! This cannot be for nothing!”

Admiral Arbus struck his webbed palm against the tactical command table in front of them.

“You are letting your anger blind you, sir!”

“While you are blinded by fear!”

“Gentleman PLEASE! Some decorum, if you will.”

Silently, Cassian urged Leia to stop pretending to be Mon Mothma. As much as he admired her and had relied on her support, Mon Mothma’s brand of diplomacy would not work for Leia. Leia’s strength lay in the force of her will and the strength of her anger. Only action, born of her righteous anger, could save them now

Cassian chanced a glance at Jyn; she stood as erect as Leia, looking steadfast and strong as ever. But he saw the gray shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin. The Rebellion was in shambles; his own life has been threatened by a man he had trained himself. And yet, he could not stop thinking of Jyn and her welfare. Wherever the recent development of the assassination attempt might lead him, he knew that he could not allow Jyn to follow. Supporting herself by placing her hands on the command table, Jyn ignored decorum and addressed the council. 

“You’re all rebels, aren’t you? You could have fooled me. What the hell have you become? I remember what this council was like in its glory days, do you? You were there, Princess,” Jyn nodded at Leia, who managed the smallest smile, “It wasn’t a posse of cowards just looking for any excuse to disband and run away. You’ve been fighting the Empire for ages, and sure, the world’s been fucked. But you’re guilty of that, too. And now you just want to, what? Run away and leave the rest of us to die? You wanted me dead. You tried very hard to kill me, but I came back. What does that say about all of you? 

She spoke with confidence, but only Cassian noticed the way she balled her fists at her sides and spat her words. Without thinking, Cassian moved closer to her, but she shrugged away from his touch. She had a goal and she was unlikely to let him get in the way of it again.

“Your rebellion, this Alliance, it promised a better galaxy. Where is Mon Mothma’s galaxy now? Where will it be if we fail?”

Even Rieekan managed to look abashed by her directness.

“The way we win now is the way we won on Scarif. You send the best we’ve got and we take what we need by force. We go to wherever this kid was stationed and we do what it takes—whatever it takes—to keep our circuits secure.”

From emotion or for emphasis, she slammed her fists down upon the table in front of them. Pamlo jumped away, but Leia set her jaw. Rieekan, no longer shamed, glowered in her direction. 

“You make the order or I leave and do it myself.”

Cassian knew Jyn well enough to realize she wasn’t bluffing. Surely the council would not underestimate the danger of her fire. They remembered Scarif.

“Very well, Jyn. I’ll send your team to wherever General Andor sees fit. I did promise that and I will uphold my promise.” 

Cassian, seeing an opening, took his opportunity.

“Princess, I must request that Jyn Erso not be allowed to leave Echo base. She is in no fit state to undertake a mission at the moment.”

Leia glanced at Jyn for only a second, but Cassian knew that she noticed how weak Jyn looked. At the very least, she knew why Jyn had not slept well the night before. A look of betrayal overcame Jyn’s face, but she quickly hid it behind a façade of furious violence. Leia’s face, however, denoted concern.

“I agree with General Andor, Jyn. You need rest.”

Jyn opened her mouth to argue.

“ _No_ , Jyn," Leia whispered gently, "This is a battle you cannot win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! As always, thank you for reading. I apologize for the long gap; I recently defended my thesis, graduated, and moved into a new apartment in just a couple of days. It's been really hectic, and I'm really really sorry it's affected the amount of time that I have to write. Fortunately, the next chapter is already half-written. I hope you'll stick with me for it :)


	15. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rogue One_ leaves for their mission, stranding Jyn on Hoth. But not everyone agrees with that choice.

_Take me and love me if you want me_  
_Don't ever treat me unkind_  
_'Cause I had that trouble already_  
_And it left me with a dark turn of mind_  
_Now I see the bones in the river_  
_And I feel the wind through the pine_  
_And I hear the shadows a-calling_  
_To a girl with a dark turn of mind_  
_But oh ain't the nighttime so lovely to see?_  
_Don't all the night birds sing sweetly?_  
_You'll never know how happy I'll be_  
_When the sun's going down_  
_~Dark Turn of Mind (Gillian Welch)_

_I’ll pay for that later._

Cassian ran a fatigued hand through his hair, wistfully thinking of Jyn back on Hoth. He was fairly certain that even those frigid temperatures couldn’t cool the fury coming his way if he returned. In retrospect, he should have handled the situation more carefully. He at least could have given her some warning, but he supposed that would only have given Jyn time to plan. She was formidable enough on the fly, but she was a force to be reckoned with when she had the time to properly plan an attack. No, this was best. He could beg forgiveness later; anyone could see that she was in no fit state to undertake a dangerous undercover mission. How long since she’d slept? How long since she’d used spice? The days and nights jumbled together for him. Cassian dismissed the nagging thought that he probably should have stayed behind, too.

Currently, Cassian was onboard Rogue One, trying vainly to avoid conversations with Kaytoo and the crew. He knew that if he spent too much time around the droid that he would likely come to the same conclusion about Cassian that Cassian had about Jyn. Instead, he left the flying to Bodhi, grateful that the pilot had kept his own misgivings about abandoning Jyn to himself. Cassian avoided Baze altogether: the former Guardian looked ready to kill when he realized they'd left Jyn behind. In order to avoid the others, and perhaps to steal time alone, Cassian hid out in the cargo bay. In the few hours before they reached their destination, he might have enough time for a quick rest. At the very least, he might be able to focus on something other than Jyn for a bit. It was a bit chilly and dank between the boxes and crates, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and he’d slept in worse, anyway. At the very least, Cassian was grateful that he could forgo the extra layers that had become necessary for survival on Hoth. Settling himself down upon a particularly large wooden crate, Cassian folded his coat to fashion a crude pillow. Like everything else in his life, it would have to do. 

_Just for a minute, that's all._

Cassian let himself fall into the black oblivion of sleep, knowing how good it would feel. If he let himself nap for more than a moment or two, he might become groggy. But as the fog closed in, Cassian realized that he didn’t much care. That is, until he heard the slightest sound. Years of spying taught him to be constantly alert and vigilant: he bolted upright.

Cautiously, Cassian climbed off the crate, carefully making as little noise as possible. His fingers closed over the blaster as he removed it from the holster. It would be too risky to call on his comlink for help from the crew. Gingerly, he checked the latches on the crate. If he’d been paying attention earlier, he might have noticed the damage to the hinges as if someone had taken a crowbar to pry them loose with brute strength. The crowbar scarred and scratched the metal, indicating that the culprit lacked patience and finesse.

Wearily, Cassian holstered his weapon.

“Jyn, come out.”

_“Fuck you!”_

The lid of the crate slid off and Jyn appeared, brushing dust and debris off of her pants. She was still dressed in her Hoth coats and jackets.

“What the hell are you doing, Jyn.”

Comically, Jyn attempted to swing her leg over the edge of the crate but she was too short to comfortably swing the other. Cassian let her struggle.

“Following you, idiot! Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t.” Cassian eyed her, crossing his arms across his chest. He adopted the stance he always took with unruly and difficult informants.

“You dragged me back into this, don’t think you can keep me out.”

Cassian sighed heavily and turned his eyes upward, willing the Force to give him strength to deal with this impossible, implacable woman.

“Jyn, you haven’t slept in days. You’ve been in several fights. It would be irresponsible as your commanding officer to let you into the field.”

Jyn snorted as she continued to fight to free herself from her wooden prison. Finally, she managed to propel herself over the edge and hop out, landing none too gracefully. She batted away his offered hand and tapped her foot, waiting for him to continue. 

“I’ve had more sleep than you,” Cassian wanted to keep this conversation on the level. If either of them lost their tempers, it might endanger the mission, “and I don’t want you stubbornly putting yourself—and this mission—in danger over pride. If it was Bodhi or Baze who were exhausted, I would have made the same call. We’ve had too many close calls lately.”

“In front of the entire council? They doubt me enough as it is, Cassian.”

“It was the only way to get you to stay,” he uttered warily, “and clearly, even Leia’s word wasn’t enough to keep you where you were.”

“Do you really think it’s me that will endanger the mission, again? I heard you snoring up there. Are you sure it’s not really you that needs a rest? Maybe you should let me take command while you go take a nice nap. What would Leia think of that?”

She shoved past him, elbowing him out of the way as she went, clearly intending to join the others in the cockpit. Cassian roughly grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. He spoke in the lowest, calmest voice he could muster. What would it take to make her see?

“You’re still in recovery, Jyn.”

Cassian realized his mistake before the words entirely left his mouth. Jyn flinched, as if he had struck her. He saw the nerve jump in her neck and her cheeks flushed. Cassian braced himself for a fight. To his shock, however, she grimaced and turned away instead. He would rather she had attacked him. When finally she spoke, her voice shook with a savage anger that Cassian recognized came from pain as much as from fury.

"I kept a bag of spice, after Cheyenne. I kept it in my pocket but I never used it. That night when we found Baze and Chirrut again I threw it away when I could've taken it. But _I didn't._ The way you treat me makes me wish I had."

It was Cassian's turn to feel staggered. He felt the colour drain from his face.

“I’m not in recovery from anything, General. It’s you who needs to get over the past.”

Striding away from him, Cassian feared he might have lost her all over again. Before disappearing, she tossed one last barb his way, calculated to wound him as deeply as possible. 

"And while you're at it, get over me, too."

 

Later, Cassian took his place in the cockpit with the rest of his crew. Jyn slouched against the far side of the room, refusing to look his way. Instead, she pretended to be engrossed listening to Bodhi’s story about playing hunter-and-seek as a youngling on Jedha. Bodhi might believe her feigned interest as he twiddled away at the controls, but Cassian knew that her mind was a million light-years away. To anyone else's gaze, Cassian might have appeared absorbed in his inner planning for the looming mission. He suspected, however, that Jyn could see through his facade as easily as he saw through hers. 

Adding fuel to the fire, Kaytoo continued to bemoan Jyn's presence. 

“You know, Cassian, that I could have told you that Jyn was here. That is, if you had bothered to talk to me at all instead of hiding.”

Cassian rubbed his temple, trying to block out Kaytoo’s irate complaints. Cassian didn’t need two members of his crew at his throat, especially not before they went undercover in hazardous territory.

“Shut it, Kay.”

“There you go again, you’re always telling me to be quiet. I noticed that you were happy to talk to Jyn in the cargo bay. I don't know why. She can't follow the simplest orders.”

“I’m still here, you know.” Jyn grumbled, as if to unnecessarily remind them all of her sullen, gloomy presence.

"I may not be a protocol droid fluent in hundreds of languages, but I am fairly certain that "stay behind, Jyn" still means "stay behind, Jyn."

“Leave it alone, Kaytoo.”

Cassian wanted to intervene and perhaps win back a bit of faith, but Jyn rounded on him, bristling, temporarily distracted from her standoff with Kaytoo. All eyes were on them, now. Baze grunted approvingly. Apparently, he had entirely forgotten his earlier argument with Cassian after the massacre. Cassian calculated that if it came to blows that Baze would take Jyn's side. The gleam in his eyes told Cassian that Jyn wasn't the only looking for a fight.

“I don’t need your support, you’re just as bad as him.”

"Jyn, listen to me for once!"

"Leave her be, _Captain_ ."

Baze growled a warning. 

"That isn't helping. Can we all just—" Bodhi whispered from the pilot's seat.

"Were you going to say "get along?" No, we can't, Bodhi. It seems like no matter what I do someone is jumping down my fucking throat. He—," Jyn gestured at Cassian, "dragged me back here and now he won't even let me do what it is I'm supposed to. He's abandoned me twice now, and if you all think even for a moment that he won't jettison you the moment you become inconvenient, guess again." 

Bodhi withered under Jyn's scrutiny: her voice dripped with threat and she was nearly panting. She wanted to fight someone. She wanted any excuse to unleash her rage at Cassian, even if she had to unleash it onto their closest friends. Even before he'd seen her fight up close, Cassian had heard the story of her "rescue" from Melshi and Kaytoo. She could turn just about any object in the room into a weapon and knock the rest of them flat. Undeterred by Jyn's quickly vanishing self control, Kaytoo only spoke louder. At worst, Kaytoo's feelings were hurt. In an hour or two, he'd return to his usual sarcastic, sardonic self. But if he kept poking Jyn, she might explode. Cassian watched the threads of her patience fray with provoking.

“I suppose you think I should be grateful that she’s here. But my sensors indicate that she is severely weakened. Her presence drops our chance of success from 47% to 39%.”

Jyn stopped slumping and stood up as tall as her petite framed allowed. Kaytoo might tower above her, but her ferocity made up the difference.

“You’re making that up.” 

Jyn’s voice was bereft of humor and her eyes spit sparks; Cassian could tell she was itching to fight off her anger by any means necessary. Her fingers inched dangerously close to the hilt of her blaster. It was merely posturing, he hoped, but he didn’t trust Jyn to keep her temper after he’d abandoned her. Cassian moved to intervene, but Chirrut got there first, placing a wrinkled hand on Jyn’s shoulder before speaking into her ear.

“Let’s put holes in the enemy, not each other.”

Chirrut’s calm tone slowly worked its magic on Jyn and Kaytoo as the tension in the room shattered under his careful gaze. Shrugging grudgingly, Jyn shot one final sneer at Kaytoo before turning back to Bodhi, who clutched the controls so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Baze’s eyes shifted from Cassian to Jyn before he too gave up. In response, Chirrut smiled knowingly and clapped him on the back. Narrowly, they'd avoided a blowup like the one after they left the Undulon system. Unfortunately, Cassian was fairly certain they wouldn't be so lucky the next time. Cassian couldn't help but fear how much longer he could keep the Rebellion together if he couldn't even keep his own crew in line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I think we're back on track now! I should be updating more regularly from now on! Updates on Sundays until my work hours change, at which point I might switch to updating on whatever days I have off. This chapter ended up getting split again for length (if I hadn't it probably would have been over 5000 words!), but fear not! 85% of the next chapter is already written and it's a doozy :)


	16. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The landing party marches alone into the woods to discover the source of the assassin's madness, but they are not alone among the trees.

_You hold your every breath_  
_But life is for the living, in the water_  
_You feel that you should run_  
_But where are you to hide_  
_In the water_  
_Against the tide we struggle_  
_With the skin we're in_  
_Against the tide we struggle_  
_To keep our heads above the deep_  
_And our hearts above the lie (above the lie)_  
_You vow your life and blood_  
_But this is not our home_  
_In the water_  
_Could never make amends for what we've done_  
_Tainted blood_  
_His eyes, his eyes are full of love_  
_Forgive them_  
_Release them_  
_~In the Water (Anadel)_

“We’ve faced worse odds, Cassian.” 

“I don’t need to be reminded of those odds either, Kay.”

Kaytoo spoke in a voice which might have been mistaken for encouraging. Cassian silently damned the acerbic droid; he disliked knowing that anyone, even his closest companion, could read him so plainly. That was the trouble, he supposed, with letting anyone in: eventually, friendship chipped away at his carefully maintained façade. Ordinarily, Cassian would have liked to take Kay down to the planet to offer increased protection and strategy, but Ryloth was ostensibly a free planet, but in truth plagued by fighting and warfare caused by the Empire. If brought along, Kaytoo might provoke retaliation. Though grumbling, Kaytoo admitted the necessity of such a decision. After nearly coming to blows earlier in the day, Cassian counted it as one of the Force’s rare miraculous interventions. 

“We’re charging into the unknown, with less information that I’d like. We know that Zam Baldrek’s ship’s last coordinates came from the planet Ryloth. It’s a hell of a distance from the Undulon system.”

“How do you think he got from the Undulon system to the Twi’lek homeworld?”

Bodhi and Baze, like Cassian and Jyn, was suiting up for an undercover reconnaissance on the planet. He knelt on the floor of the ship, packing his overflowing rucksack. He carefully weighed each object and gadget in his hand, considering its use and value before placing it in his bag or tossing it into a pile to the side. Inevitably, most items ended up packed. Even after he decided against bringing something along and placed it aside, Cassian noticed that he had a tendency to pick it up later and pack it anyway. Years of worry etched a line between his brows, betraying Bodhi’s apprehension. Thankfully, Bodhi began carrying a blaster at some point within the past three years. 

While the four man team made their way to the planet, Chirrut and Kaytoo would guard the ship. At first, Baze had been reluctant to leave Chirrut behind. Their plans, after all, had a tendency to go terribly awry and they could always use an extra fighter. Eventually, however, Chirrut convinced Baze to let him remain in reserve. His blindness, though certainly not a liability in combat, was not well suited to navigating a woodland planet with its creeper vines and uneven terrain in the dark. 

“His tracking system indicated that he went rogue perhaps two or three days ago, when he stopped contacting his informants and his handler. His handler didn’t report his disappearance, we regularly go off the grid for days at a time. The question remains why he didn’t think to disable his tracking.”

Baze spoke next with a definite edge to his voice, as if welcoming a retort:

“The Princess wanted us to explore the operations of spice traffickers? Why switch us to this instead?”

“I heard rumors that Ryloth was a hot zone in the Outer Rim territories for spice, especially for ryll. Armynda used to say the Empire was profiting off of the trade. I was stupid enough to think she wasn’t part of their racket. Now that I know the truth, it’s safe to say that Armynda’s trafficking ring extended much further than just Cheyenne. I just smuggled out, I never really questioned the source.”

“How is ryll different?” Chirrut questioned, eyeing Jyn carefully.

Jyn cleared her throat and crossed her arms, tugging ever so slightly on the sleeves of her tunic. She didn’t meet his gaze, and he wanted to believe it was only due to their fight earlier. But he knew as well as she that Jyn’s mind wandered back to her days of addiction, the euphoria of a high, and the black pit of her overdose.

“It’s an unrefined spice ore laced with street minerals or others drugs, sometimes even Chepatite or Detonite.”

“Explosives?”

Bodhi shuddered at the thought and Cassian didn’t blame him. As a spy, Cassian had seen plenty of informants overdose on ryll. Though he’d usually managed to save them, the few who died had screamed and raved in their madness about burning from the inside out. They’d clawed at the skin of their faces and arms, scratching and tearing their own flesh in their desperation to escape. Cassian shook away the unpleasant memories; he didn’t need another distraction in the field. 

“You usually hear about street dealers cutting pure spice with ryll so they can sell more of the stuff, but there’s a market for ryll on its own.”

“Why would anybody…?” 

Thinking out loud as per usual, it took a painful silence before Bodhi looked up at Jyn from the floor. 

“Sometimes it’s easier to numb yourself than handle reality, Bodhi. I’ve been there.”

She spoke quietly as if only to him, but in the close quarters everyone heard clearly. The slightly terrified look in Bodhi’s eyes told Cassian that he regretted his choice of words and began to rummage needlessly through his pack. Clearly, Bodhi had not forgotten the track marks he had spied on Jyn’s arms. In order to break the uncomfortable tension and silence, Cassian aimed for leadership tactics. He might be glad for his promotion out of the field, but he knew the finesse of leading sometimes alluded him. It was difficult, Cassian realized, to break the habits of a life spent in isolation. Draven may have been dangerously misguided, but he knew how to control a room.

“I know it’s bleak, but it’s the best lead we have. We may be charging in blind, but we’ve won more with less,” Cassian managed a weak smile, recalling the camaraderie they had once felt as they landed on Scarif. In time, the memory of his mother’s face might fade, but still he knew he’d remember the sense of pride and belief in each other that carried them on to victory. “Who is to say it won’t happen again?”

It was difficult not to feel sheepish; this certainly was not the venue for rousing speeches. Such niceties belonged to another story entirely, it belonged to the heroes like Leia and Han and Luke and it belonged to the Jedi. It didn’t really belong to the embittered and feckless crew of _Rogue One_. They’d succeed on nerve and grit alone.

“There are worse things than going in blind, Captain. As you say, we have won before. I believe that the Force will see us win again.” Chirrut kept his tone light, and Cassian was grateful.

As if compelled by instinct, Jyn reached for the Kyber crystal tied about her neck. Did she think of her mother? Her father? Did she still fear that they would be ashamed of the path she took? In an instant, she’d tucked the crystal away. He supposed that she tucked away all her fears with it. If he was honest, he admired her ability to compartmentalize much of her pain. It was a gift that he himself never received; the killing never seemed to bother her the way it bothered him. Her regrets, it seemed, hinged more on those who died for her rather than those she killed.

 

The surface of Ryloth, once lush with greenery and glades, had been reduced to scalded wastelands and decimated forests. Even from space, the blackened patches of earth were visible, surrounded by thick timberland. The entirety of the Tann province had been reduced to rubble in retaliation for Twi’lek insurrections against the Empire. Always prone to subterranean lives, the Twi’leks who inhabited the planet had taken to seeking refuge underground. 

Bodhi brought _Rogue One_ down under the cover of darkness, shielded by the dense canopy of trees. Following Zam’s last known coordinates from the planet, the landing party of Jyn, Cassian, Bodhi, and Baze moved quietly through the trees. The cloudy skies threatened rainfall; sure enough, not ten minutes into their quest fat raindrops began falling down from overhead. Bodhi, prepared as usual, pulled rain slickers out of his rucksack and wordlessly handed them out.

Coldly, it reminded Cassian of their ill fated mission on Eadu all those years ago. The rain must have long washed away the bodies of Galen and his science officers. Yet, Cassian wondered if their ghosts lingered in that place. It was a gloomy thought for a melancholy night, besides the patter of rainfall through the trees the woods were somberly quiet. It left Cassian alone with his thoughts. As he led the party following vague directions, his mind wandered to Jyn.

She strode beside him, resolute and alert Jyn didn’t seem preoccupied with thought, but he could see the tension in her shoulders. She hadn’t forgiven him, but at the moment their relationship wasn’t her concern. Her eyes flickered left then right in a continuous loop of searching. He only wished he knew what those eyes might find. He wasn’t sure if they were looking for a hidden outpost, a depo, a mining operation, or a burned out campsite. On his other side, Bodhi’s face was hidden by the hood of his slicker. Baze kept up the rear, fingers tapping the trigger of his new repeater canon. 

With each step, Cassian slowly began to lose track of time. He put his faith in the coordinates and his comrades. The further they walked, the rockier the ground beneath their feet became. Even through the slicker, Cassian felt the dreary chill of the rain upon his skin. Eventually, they came upon a small clearing with a rocky outcropping jutting out of the earth, swollen with rain water. Hiding behind thick trunks on the tree line, they watched quietly as a lone, hooded sentry paced back and forth at the entrance of a gaping cave. Periodically, he’d stop and rest against the mouth of the cave, letting his head roll back.

“Distract him or kill him?” Baze asked gruffly, squaring his shoulders as he turned his back against the rain, huddling with the others.

“Either way we risk alerting whatever is down there. We kill him, the change of the guard would find him. We distract him, we have to deal with him when we leave. We’re here to see what’s going on, what might’ve happened to Zam. We need to do that quietly or we risk my entire circuit in this sector.”

“So we kill him.” Baze offered, locking eyes with Cassian.

“I think so. We need to get into that cave.”

Jyn had her back turn to the others, choosing instead to keep her eyes trained on the sentry. 

“Keep your voices down!” She seethed through a clenched jaw.

“If we go for a full on assault, it might anyone nearby. We need to snipe him.”

Jyn, assured that he lazy sentry was taking another break, joined them in their huddle. Cassian ignored the way his chest seized when she addressed him.

“Shoot him from here, the rain will muffle the noise.”

Levelling his blaster, Cassian ducked out from cover to take careful aim at his target. Briefly, he shut his eyes against the rain to focus his mind. Within an instant of pulling the trigger, the sentry collapsed back against the rocky outcropping. His hood still concealed his features; a passerby might mistake him for sleeping.

They approached the cave with caution, as if lurking specters threatened to leap out of the night. Baze threw the limp form of the sentry over his shoulder as he followed the others into the woods to dispose of the body. Finding a copse of low-hanging trees and bushes, Baze heaved the corpse into the undergrowth. The sentry’s hood fell away, revealing the face of a Quarren smuggler.

Cassian caught his breath but recovered quickly, shifting his gaze to Jyn who stood as if rooted to the spot.

“We need to tell the others,” Jyn said finally, breaking the silence, “that Quarren drug runners are involved in this.”  
“Is he one of Armynda’s?” Cassian asked, using his boot to kick the smuggler over in the mud, disgusing his features.

“I don’t know,” Jyn ran her hands through her slicker and pockets, searching for her comlink. “What I do know, though, is that whatever we’re dealing with here is worse than we thought.”

Cassian pulled his comlink out and shielded it from the rain.

“Kaytoo, come in Kaytoo!” His call was met with radio silence. “Kay? Kaytoo? Chirrut! Come in, Chirrut!”

They tried all of their comlinks, but they couldn’t even hear static. Suddenly, Cassian felt the cold and the darkness close in around them. 

“It might be the storm,” Bodhi offered hesitantly.

Jyn crossed her arms and for the first time since their fight, looked Cassian straight in the face, her eyes reflecting the fear that he himself felt.

“Or they’re blocking all signals.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as it turns out I had to split this chapter AGAIN, as it began to climb towards that 5,000 word mark. I'll update again on Sunday with the climax of this arc. Hopefully this makes up for the more erratic updates as of late? As always, thank you guys so much for your comments and support.


	17. The Cave / Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The _Rogue One_ team journeys deep into the heart of Ryloth to find out what they can about Cassian's deceased spy.

_Look out, this thing is gonna blow_  
_I heard it from the people in the know_  
_There's trouble in the tenements below_  
_There's fire where the flowers used to grow_  
_I'm never goin' back_  
_I'm runnin' from the sun_  
_Bullets at my heels_  
_The devil's got a gun_  
_I'm never goin' home_  
_I'll be the only one_  
_With daylight on my tail_  
_And heaven on the run_  
_~Devil’s Got a Gun (Whitehorse)_

None of them had been keen on the idea of splitting the original party in two. They were certainly even less inclined to split the party into three groups, but Cassian struggled to find a way around it. In order to complete their mission they would need to venture into the caverns of Ryloth, but without communications with Rogue One such a move felt suicidal. 

“We can’t very well turn around, walk all the way back to the ship, then come out here again. We don’t know how deep the cavern goes, we don’t even know what’s inside.” Jyn reminded them as she crossed her arms across her chest, drumming her fingers on her forearm. Cassian knew her apprehension—and thus, her impetuousness—grew with each wasted minute. 

Baze slumped against the trunk of a tree, shielding his eyes from the rain. Cassian knew he would be the difficult one to convince, even if it meant sending him back to Chirrut sooner than he’d expected. 

“The longer we wait, the more dangerous this becomes.” Cassian reminded them quietly, feeling precious seconds ticking by. 

“Afraid of a little danger are you, Captain?”

“That’s not helping, Baze. It’s not helping at all,” Bodhi tried to keep his voice light, Cassian could tell, but he failed to entirely conceal the fear in his voice, “Baze, we don’t know how much space we’ll be working with done there. You’re easily twice my size, you might not fit.”

Baze quite looked like he’d like to punch Bodhi and send him sprawling onto the muddy ground. Even now, Baze was itching for a fight. Jyn stepped between them; Cassian suspected that if a fight was to be had, Jyn wouldn’t let Bodhi be the one to take Baze’s wrath.

“We need stealth more than we need firepower right now, Baze. Believe me when I say that I want to go in guns blazing, too. We need information more than we need satisfaction. You can fight Cassian and Bodhi later. Right now, you need to let Chirrut and Kaytoo know what’s going on.” 

Baze glared at Jyn, as if he were considering picking a fight with her as well. But try as he might, Cassian suspected that Baze respected Jyn in part because they both shared and understood the impulse to destructive, uncontrolled violence. Within Baze, like within Jyn, a terrible, voracious anger burned. The former Guardian heaved his repeater-canon and for the briefest moment Cassian wildly thought that Baze might actually shoot. Instead, he shrugged and looked Jyn square in the eye as he rested the canon upon his shoulder. 

“You get in trouble in there, little sister, you run.” 

“Yeah,” Jyn nodded, “as long as you promise to keep Chirrut out of trouble. And give my love to Kaytoo.”

Baze stalked away, but Cassian heard the distinct sound of a chuckle before he turned to go. As the heavy footfalls faded, drowned out by distance and rain, Cassian’s eyes slid from Baze’s retreating back to focus on Jyn, who stripped out of her rain slicker before handing it back to Bodhi. 

 

Jyn took the lead, as the smallest and most nimble, she was the best judge of space within the cave. They discovered quickly that Baze could easily have joined them in their descent: the tunnels of the cave were easily spacious enough to accommodate the trio with plenty of leeway. Cassian stretched his arms out, barely brushing the walls with the tips of his fingers. 

Sconces hung on the walls every three hundred meters or so by Cassian’s estimation, their flickering low light illuminated enough of the tunnel that they could safely traverse the steep slope that seduced them into the darkness. Just as the blackness became nearly impenetrable and the passage suffocating, another sconce would appear in the distance around a bend. Jyn chose each step carefully, testing for stability before shifting her entire weight. Despite the relative free movement, progress was slow. Cassian passed the time by inspecting the walls of the cave. The walls felt cold and damp to his touch, but he perceived markings and engravings made into the stone. At some point in their history, Cassian guessed, Twi’leks had etched their Ryl symbols into the cave walls. Even under the warm light thrown by the sconces, Cassian couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. How would the ancient Twi’leks feel if they could see Ryloth their world now? For what evil purpose had this cave been claimed? 

The further they descended, the more cramped the symbols became, as if their writers quickly ran out of space and time. Instead of the walls becoming increasingly claustrophobic, they actually appeared to be growing in size. 

Droplets of rainwater plinked from the cave ceiling and water dripped from the walls, threatening to snuff out the carefully lit sconce. They traversed a long, straight passage down, with the fewest sconces yet. Cassian stretched his arms out once more, but he felt no walls. With a jolt, he realized that empty space surrounded them. In the span of a second, terror overwhelmed Cassian. He could neither see nor feel, he could only sense the treacherous chasm that silently beckoned him. He wanted to scream, but instead he forced himself to remain calm. 

He tapped Bodhi on the shoulder, hoping to halt his movement before Bodhi and Jyn walked themselves off a cliff. Bodhi, apparently not expecting such a movement, jerked violently and collided with Jyn, knocking her forward and catching her off balance. With the agility of a feline, Jyn righted herself, narrowly avoiding a nastier fall. Though shrouded in blackness, Cassian clamped his hands on Bodhi’s arm and dragged him out of the way. Bodhi’s rucksack and any light source he might have packed, however, was not so fortunate. It tumbled from his grasp, off the path and into the rift.

_"Fuck."_

With each step, Cassian felt himself moving further and further away from reality and further and further into pitch black oblivion. A few steps ahead, Jyn pushed on, ignoring the risk of her continued descent. It would take a miracle, a true intervention from the Force itself for them to survive the journey now. Lacking any better options, Cassian closed his eyes and for the first time in many years, placed trust not in himself, but in the Force and in Jyn. 

_I am one with the Force and the Force is with me..._

Back on Jedha, in another life entirely, Chirrut said to let the Force of others be with you. One by one, he thought of their profiles, their outlines, and imagined them walking ahead of him, leading him on as if by hand. He not only pictured Jyn and Bodhi, but Baze and Chirrut and Kaytoo, as well. He focused not upon the sound of raindrops or the echo of their footsteps, but on the friends who might lead him into salvation. One foot in front of the other, they kept fear at bay. Chirrut walked in darkness but always sought the light…Bodhi risked everything to make right with the world… Kaytoo had free will but chose to stay all the same…Baze thought that Cassian had the face of a friend…Jyn Erso loved him once, and might again if he let her…

Through the shroud, Cassian felt a calloused hand slip into his own. On through the darkness the three walked, hand in hand and without missing a single step. Though he could not see, Cassian felt as though the path ahead was illuminated by silvery light. He need only follow the string of memories that now came flooding back: Jyn lifting the blaster from his pack and taking it for her own, Jyn sprinting into a firefight to rescue a child on Jedha, the feel of Jyn’s hand in his own as Saw shouted after them, Jyn unwilling to leave her father, Jyn leading the assault on Scarif, Jyn in his arms…

And now he could hear voices in the deep, echoing off the walls, letting him know that they were safe. Or was it just Bodhi humming?

“Bodhi, you need to—”

Jyn shushed him, pressing a single finger to her lips. She gestured ahead into the darkness of the passageway. 

“Do you hear that?”

“All I heard was Bodhi’s singing.”

“No, this is something else,” Jyn whispered, inching forward gingerly. She skirted a puddle of grey, slimy rainwater, “I think we might be getting close.”

“But close to what?”

“Something solid. A door, maybe?”

In front, Bodhi dropped Cassian’s hand and moved closer to Jyn. They could see nothing through the dark, but their hands fell upon a door hewn of rough wood. Eventually, Cassian’s fingers clasped a handle. With the full force of his weight, aided by Jyn and Bodhi—and careful not to tumble over the edge of the traverse—they wrenched it open. The tunnel behind them flooded with light and industrial noise, nearly causing Cassian to shout with pain from the brightness.

 

It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but when he recovered the cavernous room came into full view: stalactites like jagged glass hung from the high cave ceiling like majestic chandeliers, framing a giant circular energy field like a skylight in the ceiling. It flooded the cavern below with grey-blue moonlight. It was not just the natural rock formations which shocked Cassian. His eyes were also drawn to the sprawling mining operations below; a complex network of improvised woodworks, ladders set into cave walls, and swinging rope bridges crafted of timber linked jutting rocks to stalactites and stalagmites. Someone had bored gaping, rough holes into the walls of the cave, revealing veins of bright crimson in the yellow-brown of the natural stone. The rock walls bore the unmistakable signs of controlled explosions, as well: scorch marks and uneven chunks of cavern blown away. Torches had been erected every few meters, burning dangerously close to the wooden infrastructure even as they lit two dozen other doors set into the rock cavern walls. Fortunately for Cassian, there were plenty of patches of dark space in which they could conceal themselves from the enemies below. 

“They’re mining spice ore.” Jyn spoke in a low voice, as if enraptured. 

As she stared on, Cassian and Bodhi forced the door shut behind them. Cassian strained his ears, but he heard no blaring siren or warning call. For now, he thought, they had not been spotted. Lucky, too, because they were vastly outnumbered; Quarren, dressed in smugglers’ black leather, pushed trolleys overflowing with red rocks.

“How do they get it out? It can’t be the way we came in.” Bodhi asked breathlessly, his eyes following the trolleys.

Cassian’s eyes skimmed the entire room, before coming to rest on the energy field. A complex system of ropes and wires travelled from the mouth of the energy field all the way to the floor of the cave, 

“Through that—look closely. There’s a pulley system. They must load the crates and lift them through. If you look closely, there’s a small opening, probably big enough for some kind of lift.”

“That’s our way out.” 

“We know what they’re doing here, can we go?” Bodhi asked tentatively, hopefully. 

“Not yet. We need to see if there’s any information we can bring back to the Council. If we can, find out what happened to my agent.”

If he was honest, this was not Cassian’s ideal reconnaissance stealth team. Bodhi had little field experience; he was handy enough with a blaster and could pilot Imperial ships with relative ease, but Cassian didn’t know how well he’d take to cloak and dagger tactics. Jyn, he knew, preferred hand-to-hand combat to sneaking. He knew from personal experience, however, that Jyn’s partisan experience adapted well to subversive maneuvers. Still, he’d prefer to position Chirrut with his lightbow by the door they entered from. Baze could cover them from above with his canon. Kaytoo could finally flex his riot control circuits if things went south. But that, of course, was impossible. Cassian settled for leading from the front. 

Under cover, avoiding the light of torches, Cassian took hold of a top rung and swung his body down the ladder, closely followed by Bodhi and Jyn. The Quarren drug traffickers seemed oblivious to the small invasion force in the heart of their operation, and Cassian prayed that their luck would hold long enough to see them safely out again. When his feet touched solid ground, Cassian melted into the shadow of a stony outcropping, pulling the others with him before they could give away the position. Two Quarren smugglers, oblivious to Cassian, stopped nearby with their overflowing cart. 

“When do we get our next spice ration, do you know?”

“Tonight, I think. I wish they’d let us have the pure stuff, though. I haven’t been able to think straight since they switched to ryll.”

“Did you hear? They’re dumping the last of the Twi’lek tomorrow. Good riddance.”

“This shipment didn’t last long, did it? We should tell the boss to get us some of those Wookies. I heard that they work like machines on Kessel.”

Bodhi covered his mouth with his arm, disgusted. Cassian spied Jyn’s hand reaching slowly for the blaster at her side. He caught her eye and shook his head. 

“Better the Twi’lek and Wookies than us,” this Quarren, tall and broad with the familiar orange-scaly skin, turned to his companion, “though I don’t know Overseer sees much difference between us. Sometimes, I wish I could just shoot him. Maybe they’d make me the new Overseer. Whadya think, Yaro? Overseer Nossoro has a nice ring to it.”

His friend shrugged, lounging against the cart.

“Don’t know what’s stopping you. Everybody else hates him as much as you.”

The first Quarren, tentacles bristling, reached for the blaster hooked on his belt. Before he could make any move, however, another Quarren, dressed in black and red robes instead of worker or criminals’ garb, advanced from another station. Cassian’s old instincts kicked in, and he sunk further into the darkness with Jyn and Bodhi. The footsteps of the Overseer echoes around the cavern, as if every worker immediately fell silent at his approach. His line of sight hampered, Cassian could only make out their voices. The first sounded cool and calm, the second riddled with fear:

“What’s going on here?”

“Nothing, Overseer.”

“Did I see you reaching for your blaster, Nossoro?”

“No, Overseer.”

“Really? How well do you know your own mind, Nossoro?”

**"How may I serve you?"**

“Draw your weapon. Shoot your friend through the head.”

“Wait! Overseer, I didn’t, it was _him_ —”

Cassian heard a click and the rev of a blaster. The shot rang out, reverberated from floor to ceiling, shaking the walls. The sound of a thick body crashing to the floor and of wood splintering followed a second after. Cassian risked moving closer to see the aftermath: Nossoro, the defiant Quarren, stood with his blaster drawn, eyes blank, while his companion sprawled upon the cavern floor, a hole scorched through his middle. Blood leaked onto the stone floor, mixing with the red powder from his overturned cart. 

 

“We need to go. _NOW_.”

“What about stealth?”

“Move as quietly as you can.”

Cassian hoped that the recent execution would distract the Quarren drug smugglers enough so that they might actually reach the surface. The information they carried was too vital to die with the likes of him. He moved with new purpose, ducking and weaving around carts and crates, vanishing into cracks and gaps, hiding under ledges. Finally, they found their way to the lift connected to the pulleys. In intervals, the lift, buoyed by the pulleys, transported a few crates of spice at a time to the energy field. A single Quarren guard had been stationed at the lift, absentmindedly glancing over the carts after the workers loaded the lift high. 

When the guard glanced away, Cassian seized his chance and pushed the others ahead. They reached the lift, Bodhi boosted Jyn from the ground into the lift. She swung into the lift and reached her hand out to Bodhi and Cassian. In an instant, they all stood together, wedges between the crates in the lift. Made of durasteel and wood, the lift seemed to be fashioned from an old miner’s cart.

A moment later, the lift jolted to life. Their ascent began slowly, but quickly picked up pace as the pulleys screeched and jerked. Reaching for Jyn’s hand, Cassian closed his eyes and prayed that the lift could support the weight of his team and of the spice. When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find his hand still firmly held within hers. 

_Am I forgiven, then?_

“I think…I think we might actually make it.”

Bodhi’s voice sounded disbelieving, shocked. Jyn didn’t drop his hand, but she didn’t relax. 

He’d discovered a truth much more terrifying than any he’d seriously considered before. The Quarren didn’t get to live. If he waited as long as possible, he could get off a single shot before they reached the energy field. He didn’t know how well guarded the exit would be. He certainly expected it to be more heavily fortified than the tunnel through which they had come. They would need to fight their way out. He didn’t know how long it had taken to reach the central cavern. Hours? He didn’t know the location of the energy field in comparison to their entrance or their ship…

Cassian blocked out all thoughts as he drew his blaster.

“Bodhi, Jyn. Do you see any explosives?”

Jyn understood him at once. She pointed to a tower of marked crates DETONITE. 

“If the explosion is big enough, it’ll catch the spice and ryll in the blast. It’ll take this place down.”

He drew a breath and fired. Below, the detonite exploded into a ball of pure, white fire. The Quarren smugglers barely had time to scream before the fireball swallowed the cave floor in flames that jumped high, but not high enough to reach their lift. It continued to climb, undeterred. The second explosion, as the detonite hit the rylll, shattered in a blaze of blood-red fire burst. This heat, unlike the first, seared Cassian’s skin. He heard Bodhi scream in pain. He felt the flames leap up inside his body, boiling his insides and blistering his skin. As long as the flames did not set the spice in the lift aflame, they stood a chance. 

_Is this how it feels to be burned alive?_

The lift shook and tossed, but still it climbed higher and higher, closing the last few meters as Cassian, Jyn, and Bodhi climbed through the opening of the energy field, out into the freezing night rain.

Gasping, they jumped free of the lift and the spice cart, scrambling to the ground. Cassian choked on the frigid night air. Beside him, Jyn fell to the ground, too. Before they could even catch their breath, however, a gang of Quarren guards surrounded them. Blasters pointed into their faces. Behind them, the explosion reached the energy field, billowing smoke and flames through to the night air. Jyn threw herself upon Cassian and Bodhi, dragging them to the ground an instant before the spice in the lift detonated. 

Ears ringing, Cassian stumbled to his feet. He reached out desperately for Jyn and for Bodhi. A hand grabbed a hold of him, hard, and dragged him towards the trees. A bolt of lightning rent the sky, briefly illuminating the canopy of the forest against the sky. Jyn’s eyes reflected the fear that Cassian kept barely at bay. 

“The explosion got a few of them…Cassian, run!”

As if on autopilot, he followed her command. His feet pounded against soggy earth, he ignored the pain in his lungs and the blistering welts on his arms. He could think only of Jyn. With the sounds of the gang not far off, Cassian counted himself lucky that he hadn’t lost Jyn in the storm. The ground beneath their feet shook with thunder. Cassian wondered wildly if the cavern below continued to explode… 

Through the deluge, Cassian finally realized that Bodhi had vanished. Jyn, too, looked left and right in her panic, hurriedly pushing her soaked hair out of her eyes. She didn’t even bother to speak before spinning around to run back through the trees to her certain death. Anticipating this, Cassian latched his arms around her and dragged her round. Quelling his self-loathing as he had for decades, he shouted to her above the chaos of the storm.

"Keep going!"

“We can’t!”

"I thought he was behind us!"

Jyn struggled against him, but he held her fast. They were giving up precious seconds, seconds that they desperately needed in order to escape. Cassian’s stomach lurched and he fought back the urge to follow Bodhi himself. He hated himself more than he ever had before.

“If we go back, they’ll find us all. If he’s been caught, there’s nothing we can do. If he’s safe, he'll find us."

Jyn looked ready to argue, but the unmistakable barbaric shouts of the horde grew closer. She shot the trees one final look before she took off running, Cassian close on her heels.

When you spend your life running, Cassian knew, eventually you’d get caught. He’d just hoped to put off the inevitable a little longer now that he had something to live for again. But, if she had to die now, at least she’d die with Jyn close to his side. It was only a cold comfort. Together, they dodged blaster shots as they dashed through the jungle and the mire and the muck. Half-blinded by the torrent, he struggled to keep pace with Jyn who nimbly darted ahead. His chest seered painfully, breath coming in short bursts and gasps. If he stopped even for a moment to collect himself, the Quarren guards would be upon them in seconds.

_Just a little further!_

If they kept running in a straight line, they’d make it back to the ship where the others waited. There were a hundred ways they could’ve lost their sense of direction in the jungle, a hundred ways to get lost in the fear. In any other circumstance, he might’ve hoped for a last minute rescue. This time he didn’t much count on that possibility. Even without Kaytoo, he knew the odds; the wailing storm overhead likely drowned out the blaster fire and the downpour would keep the bursts from view onboard the ship. If they were to survive, they’d survive on their own wits alone. He wanted to be optimistic, but what was the point when death was upon on your heels? But the clashing of the lightening above and the howls of the murderers behind did not bode well.

Still, Cassian couldn’t help but feel that he was down to the last few drops of sand in the hourglass. When the gang caught them, it wouldn’t be a quick death. It wouldn’t be painless. These were not bounty hunters like those on Scarif. They’d shoot them first, nonlethally from a distance, then creep in slower and slower between the trees, waiting for their prey to succumb slowly from the pain or from blood loss. They’d be tortured for information: Cassian would spend his last moments selling out the Alliance he had served faithfully his entire life. When finally the gang was done, sufficiently informed, they might hang Jyn and Cassian by ropes from the trees overhead, with no one to bear witness to their final moments except each other. Cassian had seen the aftermath of such attacks by the most ruthless traffickers before.

Jyn reached for his hand as their pursuers drew closer. Damn his soul if he and Jyn Erso would die on the run or by lullaby pill. Drawing their weapons, they spun around to return fire. They wouldn’t last long, but they would fight anyway. Soaked to the bone, ragged and cold, still they stood.

They exchanged fire with the shadows behind the trees for less than a minute.

A tree, struck by a lightning bolt, fell down with a deafening crack in the distance. They tried to keep running, but Jyn’s foot caught in a creeper vine and she slipped in the mud. Cassian lost crucial seconds dragging her to her feet. In that instant, their chance of survival disappeared as the leering and seething gang fell upon them, hissing dire threats drowned out by the rain.

Despite the sheer number of adversaries—Cassian counted ten—he was able to hold his own. Long-range sniping had always been his preference, but he’d found that desperation and urgency brought out the hand-to-hand training he’d received as a rebellion trainee. Deftly, he struck out with closed fists at any delicate spot he could reach, desperately hoping to cripple enough of them, giving them a moment to flee. These men, it seemed, were accustomed to overwhelming stronger opponents with their sheer numbers. Against well-trained combatants, the odds might almost be equal if he could shoot a few of them. Distantly, he heard Jyn’s blaster ring out. 

At close range, using a blaster was risky, but his thoughts were clouded by desperation. He aimed and fired at the midsection of the closest enemy, blowing him straight through. Stumbling back, the man clutched at his stomach before collapsing. The leader of the gang, a violent fool who bore the scars of fights lost and won, kicked the dead man out of the way as he faced Cassian. With a roar, he pounded his chest and rushed Cassian. He fired and hit; but still the man charged forward, knocking the blaster from Cassian’s grip. The leader grappled, trying to throw him. Cassian could hardly see through the rain, so he struck out wildly, landing a sharp blow to the man’s neck. Suddenly, he was bowled over into the muddy ground. Desperately, he searched with his hands for the dropped blaster. He felt slime and vines underneath his hands, as he frantically moved them over the ground. His opponent lost his foothold in the muck, buying Cassian a crucial second. Finally, he found the cold steel of his blaster. In an instant, he was back on his feet with the barrel pointed squarely at the leader. 

Panting heavily, he kept it trained on the man, lest he try to attack again. Cassian grabbed him before he could make a move and slammed him bodily into the trunk of a tree, breaking the man’s nose. Blood ran freely from his face, staining his cloak and mixing with the rain and the mud at his feet. 

“Let him go, now! Or your girl gets it!”

Knowing he had finally lost, Cassian looked to where Jyn stood shaking, with a blaster pointed at her head by the gang’s lieutenant. The bodies of the other gang members littered the ground in front of her. He spotted her blaster laying a distance away, as if it had been flung in the melee. Even if she lunged and caught the lieutenant by surprise, Jyn Erso wasn’t likely to make it out alive.

“We’ll shoot you first in front of your woman. Then I think we’ll string her up from the trees and leave her corpse for the birds. Or, you can do this quietly and she goes free.” 

Without weighing his options or improvising any counter-attack, Cassian tossed his blaster to his ground and released the man from his hold. 

“No!”

Jyn screamed as she stumbled forward, but the lieutenant forced an arm behind her back and held her still. She couldn’t fight, she couldn’t intervene, she couldn’t save him. Cassian knew it would kill her. His life was already slipping out of his grasp, washed away like so much rain. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end for either of them. But Cassian Andor accepted his death a long time ago, long before he’d met Jyn Erso and long before he’d held her on Scarif. She’d only hurried him to the grave; but he didn’t mind. 

The thick mixture of peat and moss sucked at his ankles hungrily, threatening to swallow him whole as the leader forced him to his knees. He recognized the look of terror upon her face, raw and real. He’d promised to never leave her again, but here he knelt, prepared to die in order to save her.

“Don’t do this! Don’t let him do this! _Fight back!_ Take your hands off him!”

If he followed her orders, they’d both surely die. It wasn’t the way he had wanted to go, but it was an ending all the same. He only wished they could have gone together. Always, that was the way it was meant to be: she’d asked him once if he was with her, and he’d replied “all the way.” Now, he would die in the rain and she would not be able to follow. He wasn’t supposed to go without her. Likely, they would kill her next anyway. But if he went quietly now and made it easy, they might keep their word. 

The leader gruffly forced Cassian to kneel in the sludge by shooting the back of his legs. Jyn shouted through gritted teeth, as if her words were wrenched from her, piece by piece, tearing her apart with each syllable:

“Stop! I’ll do anything you want!”

“Anything I want?”

The leader smacked Cassian across the face and he doubled over in pain. 

“Do you love this guy?”

Jyn gave a strangled cry; the leader struck Cassian again. Blood continued to spurt from a ragged gash at his temple, gushing into his eyes, obscuring his vision. Cassian couldn’t see her, but he thought he heard the sound of Jyn crying. He had hoped to keep her away from this, keep her out until she had recovered. But in the end, she’d followed and now they would pay the price for their mistakes. With wry remorse, he knew that his death would ruin her, too, even if she survived. One last time, he would make a final effort to save her from what little pain he could. 

“Don’t watch, Jyn.”

He imagined her, eyes growing wide wide as she struggled against her captor, vainly trying to get closer, desperately reaching out to him, ignoring the laughing of the man holding her. The leader pressed the barrel of his blaster against the back of Cassian’s head. Death was so close now that it drowned out all other sound, suspending Cassian in a state of grace until the leader’s voice shattered his thoughts.

“DO YOU LOVE HIM?”

He had only heard her beg once before, and he couldn’t stand it anymore now. He didn’t try to turn to her, but he felt her there just as clearly as he had felt her in their final moments on Scarif. This would be his atonement for all his years of killing and lying and getting away. For killing Tivik, for almost killing Galen, for every life that he cut short in his dogged pursuit of a peaceful future that he would never know. For trying to save Jyn when she needed to save herself. For betraying Jyn, twice over. Atonement finally caught up with him and now his place was beyond her now: above the pines and the rain and the clouds. He pictured her as he had in the cave: laughing, fighting, holding him, surrounded by silvery light. He looked for the Force in others, in her. He wanted to remember Jyn, bathed in silver and stardust, calling his name and calling him home. Cassian hoped she wouldn’t suffer long. 

_Yes!_

The leader’s shot drowned out Jyn’s scream, but still Cassian heard her call.

 

After a moment, however, he realized that despite the unyielding throbbing and the torrent of blood flowing from his wounds, he was very much alive. Another shot, followed by another, rent the night apart. Death felt oddly wet.

Cassian realized that he in fact still alive at the same moment that he realized he lay face down in the mire, coughing and sputtering and nearly drowning in mud and plant refuse. The side of his face seared with pain, and his vision blurred with filth and gore. Desperately, he dragged a sleeve across his eyes to clear his vision. When at last he could see, it took a moment for the scene to take shape before him.

Jyn was kneeling in the dirt, heaving and breathing as if she’d run a great distance. The lieutenant and the leader were both dead with their comrades. Her finger still curled over the trigger. A few paces away, Bodhi stood with his blaster drawn, still aiming. He holstered his weapon and walked to Jyn, taking her into his arms. Through the encroaching black fog of dreamless sleep, Cassian saw Jyn throw her arms around Bodhi’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Despite my best efforts, this chapter *still* ended up being much longer than I had hoped. Still, I hope you liked it. The next chapter will finally revert back to Jyn's p.o.v., which I've missed writing from for a while now. After this arc, most chapters will probably be in the 1,500-2,000 word range again.


	18. Into the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn is affected in unexpected ways by the explosion, but the others are there to help her if only she asks for it.

_Twenty-five years or so, it's all I've ever known_  
_Pictures on the wall in the place that I call home_  
_We blew it up and burned it down and now we stand alone_  
_Flames so high in ashes down below_  
_All my hopes and memories are blowing in the wind_  
_I started off with nothing and I'm back here once again_  
_The little things in life are free_  
_The simple things, like you and me_  
_Like love, like love_  
_It's okay to start again cause change is gonna come_  
_Nothing ever stays the same, it's not like we're still young_  
_Let's blow it up and burn it down so we can stand alone_  
_The sky above, the earth below, fire within me, let it glow_  
_~From the Ashes (Amy MacDonald)_

Following Bodhi’s lead, Jyn grabbed a hold of Cassian and slung a limp arm around her shoulder. On Cassian’s other side, Bodhi did the same, hooking his arm around the taller man’s waist. The rain continued to pour down, slowing their already laborious movements through the mire. Step by step, they dragged Cassian through the storm and through their own lurking fatigue. 

_Is it just fatigue?_

She tilted her eyes upward, willing herself to utter a silent prayer of thanks for her deliverance. But, the words simply didn’t appear and the sky looked down on her; cold and black and unforgiving. She tried to ignore her own nagging paranoia, tried to ignore the sight of red-tinged rain flowing down the side of Cassian’s head. The edges of her vision appeared rosy, almost glowing in the dark.

On Cassian’s other side, Bodhi’s face read of grim determination, dimly, Jyn realized that Bodhi was doing most of the heavy lifting, she merely provided slight leverage. Even so, Bodhi would be better off without her, everyone would be better off without her. If she hadn’t come along… 

All she registered was a dull pain in her side and the frigid rain on her skin, but even that felt as if it belonged to someone else. She distantly realized, however, that just because she could not feel the pain did not mean that her body was impervious to it. With each additional beleaguered step she took, Jyn staggered as though the ground rolled and pitched beneath her feet, as if the explosions deep underground continued to rock the earth, slick with rain and Cassian’s blood. As she lifted her feet, the ground rose up to meet her. 

Beneath the moonless sky, she could not begin to assess Cassian’s wounds. Even if the light had been in her favor, she knew the tug of delirium and numbness well. Instead, she continued to stumble and trudge, ignorant to the pull of the muck, aware only of the creeping darkness and her own uneven movements. 

Once more, she found herself in the abandoned cave, faltering as she plunged through the bottomless emptiness. She was a little girl again, unable to carry the weight required of her. She’d fought the urge to jump, then and now. Instead, she rocked back and forth in that dark, alone in the void. Now, Jyn didn’t even have the benefit of a sputtering lantern. Jyn only had Bodhi to lead the way; she could not longer trust herself. 

“Jyn, we need to keep going!”

She nodded, but did not process the words that Bodhi shouted. His voice came to her, as if through a veil. Jyn did not notice the urgency, the pleading, the desperation. Still, she forced herself on without through the confusion. Her thoughts jumbled together, and try as she might she could not order them. 

_Cassian…shot…Cassian…dead?...not dead…shot…shouldn’t have come…_

She remembered the all-consuming fire, the explosion which rattled her bones, the cloying, tempting scent of spice which now flooded her senses. She drowned in her desire for more. The memories and the desire swirled inside her head, a maelstrom drawing her down into the depths no matter how hard she fought the tide. She gave herself over to the delusion. 

_Shouldn’t have come._

From far away, through the trees, Jyn thought her knees must have buckled, but she didn’t mind. Beside her, Cassian’s body collapsed to the ground, even as Bodhi desperately writhed to steady them all. Now, the empty darkness no longer called to her. Instead, it was the damp earth that beckoned her home. All along, she belonged beneath the ground. Bodhi might be shaking her shoulder, he might be screaming in her ear, but she heard only the call of sleep.

Dreamless sleep would have been a blessing for Jyn Erso, but unfortunately she was not a particularly blessed person. As if caught in a delirium, their mottled faces flashed behind her eyes in the depths of the labyrinth: first her mother, motionless in the dirt, her father, collapsed in the rain, Saw, disappearing behind a cloud of rock and ash, Mon Mothma whispering “I’ll be alright”, Cassian shot before her eyes, accepting his death without issue to give her a fighting chance at life. A chance, he surely knew, that she would heedlessly gamble away as easily as she had his.

 _It's my fault!_

Jyn was an adult, Jyn was a child. She called for Saw, she called for Cassian, she called for the woman she might have become, had the universe been kinder and she’d been stronger. Jyn cried for the innocent pieces of herself she’d lost along the way: her beliefs, her dignity, her passion. Would she ever get those back? 

“Hold her!”

“Jyn, it’s me—it’s us! Stop fighting!”

She bit and she clawed and she kicked, her body racked by those familiar aftereffects of use, abuse, and withdrawal. Hands pressed at her wrists and ankles, sweat clung to her brow, but she was beyond all of that now. Her cave was the only real thing around her; not Chirrut or Baze or Kaytoo. But then Cassian appeared at the mouth of the cave, illuminated by silvery light as he stretched out a hand to her.

_Cassian._

“He’s fine, Jyn! He’ll be just fine. It’s you—” 

_Cassian fine? Cassian alive?_

Jyn ceased her struggling and let Cassian lead her out of the blackness around her.

When she awoke, her body ached like she’d run the length of an Onderon race track only to be promptly kicked in the ribs and possibly set on fire. As the fog dissipated, Jyn realized that she was back on _Rogue One_ , laid out on a crude palette in the cockpit that seemed to have been fashion from various coats, jackets, and a shoddy blanket which had been thrown over her. With each tiny movement she attempted, sharp pain richoetted throughout her body. Her arms especially felt heavy and sore; when finally her strength rejuvenated enough for her to inspect her own wounds, she quickly found that her limbs were covered in angry red welts and blisters. Bodhi, who must have kept vigil over her as he guided the ship, had applied a few Bacta patches to her skin. Unfortunately, she preferred the heat of her burns to the itch of the patches and thus ripped them off as soon as the flight distracted Bodhi. When they were back on Hoth she could seek proper treatment, but for now she would risk Bodhi’s wrath in order to be slightly more comfortable.

At the present moment, her main objective was to find Cassian and ensure that he was indeed fine. In her fever dream, she remembered someone—Chirrut, perhaps?—telling her that he was safe, but she would not be content until she saw him with her own eyes. Jyn inched towards the edge of her cot, girding herself for the pain when she attempted to stand to her feet.

“No. No. No Jyn. Sit back down.”

As if he had been waiting for her, Bodhi spun around in his chair, doing his level best to glare crossly at her. Jyn, however, knew him well enough to see through the façade, as evidenced by the worry line etched between his brows. 

“Bodhi, I just want to check on Cassian. I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.” Jyn managed lightly, even as she gritted her teeth in order to stand upright.

“Jyn, you’ve been shot.” Bodhi said gently, nodding at her side.

Sure enough, her fingers found bandage wrappings around her middle. 

“I’ve had worse.”

“You can barely move, much less walk. Please don’t make me call Kaytoo.”

“Why? So he can complain at me?”

Jyn stepped to the doorway, hoping that Bodhi wouldn’t leave the pilot’s chair even if she made a bolt for Cassian.

“No, so he can hold you still again.”

Even as she stood more firmly on her feet, Jyn still felt the aftereffects of her earlier, likely spice-induced vertigo. Next, she propped herself against the wall, hoping to convince Bodhi that she was in perfect working condition. 

“I’m doing just fine, Bodhi. Look at me back on my feet already. It’s a miracle.” She said dryly, as she shuffled closer and closer to the doorway.

“When the lift exploded…did you feel…different?”

In that moment, she would have traded anything for Cassian’s skills as an interrogator and spy. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bodhi.”

“Yes, you do. Cassian and I don’t need to worry so much, we didn’t get it as bed. But you were…”

“Addicted. You can say the word, I expect I’ll be hearing it more often now that we know the truth.”

Instinctively, she reached for the cuff of her tunic, pulling the sleeve down over her partially exposed arm. It wouldn’t be easy, explaining to the council about the purpose of the spice trafficking, but at least she wouldn’t be alone in it. At the moment, however, she wanted to keep her thoughts as far away from spice as possible. The longer she could go without thinking about it, the longer she could pretend that the old familiar numbness and the old familiar high hadn’t felt exhilarating. 

“Just be careful, okay? And if you need anything, ask? I know, I know that you don’t need my help and everything, but if you…?”

Inwardly groaning, Jyn put forth the effort to heave herself back across the floor to him.

“I’ve always needed your help, Bodhi. I was just too stupid to ask for it. I won’t forget what you did for Cassian and me back there and he won’t either.”

Bodhi cleared his throat and glanced up at the ceiling of the cockpit, searching for the proper words. His voice, though remarkably calm for Bodhi, held a slight edge of self-doubt.

“You know, when I saw you again after all that time, I thought that you would hate me.”

She smiled wanly and tugged lightly on his ponytail, just as she’d done a hundred times before in happier circumstances. Back before she’d driven him away, back before she’d become addicted to spice. If she was honest with herself, she had never been happier than when the two of them were on the run together. But like everyone else in her life, he’d left her alone and she’d learned to cope through the prick of a needle and reaching the bottom of a bottle.

Jyn knew that she needed to shake those dark thoughts; if she couldn’t keep herself clean, all she was standing to gain once more would be lost. She ignored the itching of her skin and the clench in her belly, silently urging her to go find more…

“I could never hate you.” 

A true smile broke over Bodhi’s face, making him look even younger than usual.

“But if you try to keep me from seeing Cassian, I might start.”

 

She found Cassian a few minutes later, comfortably ensconced in a napping nook. One of the other had applied bandages, hiding the brutal wound on the side of his head. Silently, she was relieved. Baze, Chirrut, and Kaytoo sat nearby on the floor, absorbed in an improvised game of Sabacc over a small suspension mat that glowed bright blue. By the looks of it, Chirrut was winning despite the best—and even combined—efforts of Baze and Kaytoo.

“Losing to a blind man?” Jyn called from the doorway, surveying the scene with mild, detached interest.

“He’s the dealer, the odds are always on the dealer.” Kaytoo grumbled ad he shifted the cards in his hands idly. 

“And he cheats,” offered Baze gruffly, not taking his eyes off of Chirrut’s cheerful face, “somehow, this fool cheats.”

“In sabacc, Baze, that would be the Idiot.” Said Chirrut mischievously, eye twinkling over his cards at Jyn as she entered the room.

“You’ve been together how many years and you still haven’t figured it out?” Jyn affected a baffled voice, knowing it would ruffle Baze’s feathers and frustrate Kaytoo to no end.

“He shouldn’t be able to win,” Kaytoo offered grumpily. The sight of him with Baze and Chirrut—sitting cross-legged upon the floor and hunched at the shoulders as if defending his cards—nearly wrested a grin from Jyn. Instead, she forced the corners of her mouth into a grimace.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with your circuits.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s the problem,” Chirrut said, grinning, “Baze gets quieter than usual when he gets a bad hand, and Kaytoo spends so much time running the odds that he forgets it’s a game of chance.”

“Speaking of chance, how did you find us in the forest?” Jyn asked as she gently lowered herself to sit beside Chirrut.

“Aftershocks, mainly. We’re lucky the jamming only disrupted our communication, not our instruments.”

“Somebody put a blanket over me while I was out…was that you?” asked Jyn of Chirrut, watching his deft hands closely as he placed cards facedown upon the suspension mat in front of them.

“No. That was me.”

Confounded by Kaytoo's confession, Jyn looked him over.

“Why? And don’t say that Cassian said you had to.”

Kaytoo shrugged, his beedy eyes fixed upon the slowly shuffling cards. He only appeared mildly perturbed that she had missed his gesture.

“You saved him once and then you saved him again. I underestimated you, Jyn Erso.”

“Actually, it was Bodhi who saved us this time.”

Chirrut’s weathered hands moved gracefully, turning over the cards to the groans of the others.

“Well then, give me back the blanket and we’ll be equal.” Said Kaytoo as he drew another card, his frustration growing with each additional loss.

“Does this mean you’ll stop giving me grief?” asked Jyn, not unhopefully.

“Probably not. At least not while other people can hear.”

It wasn’t an apology, or even a truce, but it was a start. Jyn lingered in the room long after Kaytoo and Baze had given up at winning, cutting their losses and leaving to join Bodhi in the cockpit. They hadn’t lost any credits, of course, seeing as none of them had any to gamble, but Jyn suspected that their shared wounded pride would keep them out of the game for a while to come. At any rate, she was glad to be alone with Cassian.

“He still hasn’t woken up?”

Jyn asked quietly, as she moved a tendril of dark black hair out of his eyes with her finger. Gentleness and sentimentality did not come naturally to Jyn Erso, but she did notice that Cassian looked nearly a decade younger as he slept. Peaceful, happy, unburdened by the insanity of the universe and everything in it. Behind her, she sensed that Chirrut moved closer.

“No, but Kaytoo assured us that he will soon, after he’s rested.” Chirrut’s tone was level, calming.

“Is Baze still angry with Cassian?”

“I don’t think so, not really. He forgot all about it the moment that we found the three of you in the woods—soaking wet from the rain and the blood. His temper tends to disappear as suddenly as it comes. Not unlike someone else I know.” He smiled sagely at her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. A flush crept up her neck, but she pretended not to notice.

“When we were caught, by the smugglers, I didn’t react fast enough. That’s why we were captured. I shouldn’t have come, he was right all along,” She nodded at Cassian, “and now, because of me, he’s been shot.”

“It was foolish to come with us, but it would have been just as foolish to stay, Jyn. You and Cassian survived tonight because the Force wills it.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because Bodhi willed it?”

Chirrut laughed and squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re needed in this galaxy, Jyn. For better or for worse, you’re destined to change it. We all can see it—Mon Mothma saw it and Cassian does too.”

“I hope that’s true,” said Jyn with a whisper, her gaze not leaving Cassian’s face. “He was ready to die for me.”

“Are you so surprised, Jyn? It wouldn't be the first time.”

Jyn cleared her throat.

“I told him that I loved him, right before we were shot…do you suppose everything will change when he wakes up? I’ve never been good at navigating other people and I don’t really know what to do with something like love. Maybe I could’ve three years ago, but not now.”

“In my experience,” Chirrut said, his eyes lingering on the doorway through which Baze had disappeared, “love can be hard to find in the dark…that is until you learn to let in the light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! My work schedule has changed up pretty drastically so I'm not sure when I will be able to update again, but I will try to get into a regular groove as soon as I know my days off. As always, you guys are amazing for sticking with me! Also., special thanks to aewgliriel for noticing the glitch and pointing it out! To anybody who read the chapter while the glitch was still up--so sorry!


	19. The Cave, Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn waits by Cassian's bedside, afraid he will never awaken.

_Can you walk on the water with I, you and I?_  
_"Because your blood's running cold" said the familiar, true to life_  
_Can you walk on the water with I, you and I?_  
_Or keep your eyes on the road and live there familiar, without you and I_  
_It glows with gates of gold, true to life_  
_And our love is a ghost that the others see_  
_It's a danger_  
_Every shade of us you fade down to keep_  
_Them in the dark on who we are_  
_(Oh what you do to me)_  
_Gonna be the death of me_  
_It's a danger_  
_We took a walk to the summit at night, you and I_  
_To burn a hole in the old grip of the familiar, you and I_  
_And the dark was opening wide, do or die_  
_Under a mask of a million ruling eyes_  
_~Familiar (Agnes Obel)_

Jyn, not inclined towards exhibiting patience, found herself doing just that while she waited for Cassian to awake. She’d plucked every stray thread from the sleeve of her tunic, counted every miniscule crack in the ceiling, imagined the backstory of every dent in the durasteel walls. Still, he slept on.

She supposed that it was some relief for him that nightmares never plagued him. If anyone had reason to fear sleep, she would’ve thought it would be him. In those heady nights after Scarif, as their bodies and minds mended, he’d confided—speech slurred with Corellian ale but eyes clouded by memory—about his past working with the Alliance. A few names stood out, but she’d forgotten them by now. Lucky he was, she decided, to always dream soundly when he had been so tortured in life. Jyn’s guilt, unlike Cassian’s, seemed to manifest when her eyes became heavy and her body drifted on the waves of slumber. She took less issue with death than Cassian, certainly: there were few enemies besides Krennic whom she recalled by name. It was the death of the innocent that clung to the frayed fringes of her conscience, refusing to let go, but quiet enough to remain hidden. She remembered the Partisans she fought with, she remembered her mother, she remembered the little black-haired girl on Jedha, and she remembered the tortured look in Mon Mothma’s eyes when they parted.

Jyn could outrun just about anything; sleep and Cassian, however, always found their way back to her, and with them came memories. It would seem that with Cassian’s untimely reappearance, the bridge between sleep and wakefulness eroded along with her ability to forget her conscience. 

_Damn him for that._

He had that uncomfortable yet necessary talent of forcing her to see the truth. It was frustrating, infuriating, but it was real. He cared for her—he might even love her back if she allowed him too. Chirrut’s sage wisdom, though admittedly a balm for her wounded soul, didn’t entirely relieve her of her culpability. She didn’t know if she could entirely amend her destructive ways; too much of her life had been spent ignoring the fight. But others believed in her, believed that the kind of power which she wrought could be an asset in such a war, a war of information and action, if used properly. The power was weakness as much as strength; Jyn feared that she would drag the others down into the abyss along with herself. 

_Mon Mothma saw it and Cassian does too._

But what, exactly? An addled addict? An unreformed, non-repentant criminal who fell back into fight because she had nothing better to do? Because she would be dead otherwise? Hers weren’t credentials that generally inspired confidence: the daughter of an Imperial scientist, adopted daughter of a terrorist, smuggler, and killer. Her best moment came on Scarif and the brief, long ago nights that followed. Her recent, albeit accidental, brush with spice was an ominous warning: she would never be entirely free. 

Jyn would always pose a danger to those around her, she knew it now: she could be clean for years, but she still might ruin it all for everyone. It wasn’t really the Rebellion that felt real for her, it was the people she feared letting down: grizzled Baze, mischievious Chirrut, anxious Bodhi, even derisive Kaytoo. And Cassian. 

Mon Mothma, too. They’d all forgiven her, tried to carry her through it all: she need only let them carry the weight a little. Still, Cassian tried to rescue her and had been shot for the trouble. Whatever imaginary, illusory power they envisioned was as empty as the promise for a better galaxy. They all carried the message: the Empire weaponized spice for the purposes of mental manipulation. She could fade into obscurity, leave them behind where they could change the galaxy without her, uninhibited by her mistakes, no longer put at risk. No longer brought down by her shame…

If she let her body sit still, if she let her mind rest, she’d remember the tingle of spice on her tongue, the rush through her blood, she wouldn’t feel the dizziness, the detachment, the hollow ache after. When she wanted spice, when she needed it, she didn’t care about the mornings after: slinking away from some damned stranger, pulling on a gun belt in the dark, ignoring her reflection, hiding a derringer-blaster in a garter. A frigid shiver crawled up her spine. She forced herself to remember Alydra Alphard; only then could Jyn resist. 

With the sweetest sigh, Cassian shifted as he slept, the movement wrenching Jyn free momentarily from her morbid thoughts. Reaching out an unsteady hand, she tucked strands of dark, damp hair behind his ear. As if stirred by the gentleness of her touch, those beautiful brown eyes flickered open. Arrested by the brightness of the room, he quickly adjusted his gaze to her face. Unnerved by his directness, she fiddled in her seat.

“I’m alive?” 

“Yeah, we can thank Bodhi for that. And good thing, too, or I wouldn’t be here, either,” Cassian eyes her quizzically and she forced a mirthless laugh, “Kaytoo never would have let me back on the ship.”

Cassian made to sit up, but groaned and collapsed once more. 

“I know that I disobeyed Bodhi’s strict orders to be here, but this really is a situation where you should do as I say, not as I do. Don’t move. We’ve still got a while before we’re back on Hoth and you need to save your strength. We’ll need to testify as soon as we get back.”

“Yes, I think so, too. The word of a General…” His voice trailed off, but she understood his unspoken, abandoned intent: the word of an Alliance leader would go much further towards convincing the council than the claims of a ragtag collections of runaways and relics. His word would carry much further than an addict, even if they believed that she’d only done what she’d must while she worked undercover.

“I get it. They trust you more than me,” she offered stiffly, glaring at some nondescript spot above Cassian’s head, “and you think they’re right, don’t you?”

Now, like then, the empty space constricted around her like the coiled grip of a snake. Leaving might mean plunging back into the depths of despair and madness, but she couldn’t give the Force a chance to play its cruel jokes and take the others, too. 

“That isn’t true.” Most of the color had left Cassian’s face, he now appeared deathly pale, tinged with the subtlest shading of green. A sheen of sweat clung to his forhead. “All I meant was, well, you’ve seen what the leaders are like, they’re even worse than they were before Scarif…they don’t trust anyone. But Leia’s on our side, she’ll listen.”

“Maybe because they can see what you can’t! I’ll be the death of you, all of you. You’re better off without me.”  
Cassian sat still for a moment, her proclamation hanging in the air. He let out a breath, as if he’d clung to that air for a long time.

“No, I don’t think so. I think we wouldn’t be much without you at all.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jyn snorted derisively, the self-loathing obvious to her own ears.

“You’re the one who keeps us together, Jyn. You keep me together, too.”

“Cassian, I haven’t done anything. You’re the one who brought us all together, who dragged me into this fucking mess and then made me thank you for it. No, this had nothing to do with me. I’m just the person who knows the business.”

Clearly struggling through his pain, Cassian lifted himself onto his elbows. He fixed her with an earnest stare that reminded her of the day they’d met.

“I have watched you charge—headfirst!—into the fray when no one else would. You did that to protect people you’d never met, who meant nothing to you. You were ready to die so that we, so that I, wouldn’t. I watched you do that and I thought I was watching the entire galaxy collapse around me. So don’t say that you were never anything. I’ll tell you again like I told you before: you matter to me.” 

Jyn bit her lip and averted her gaze. His words tore through her skin as viscerally as shrapnel or a shot. It sunk and settled into the marrow of her bones. When next he spoke, his words barely raised above a whisper:

“What did you see in the cave, Jyn?”

He pierced her armor long ago and now he’d pierced her soul. She’d lived in the cave for years, and now was her opportunity, finally, to escape from it. It would never be a clean break, but she could try all the same. Her voice trembled more than she’d liked, but what was the use pretending in front of the person who knew her best?

“I was a little girl again, trapped below the ground on Lah’mu. I was waiting, I think, for Saw or my father or my mother to save me, but I knew they couldn’t. I felt alone in the dark, but there was someone at the end of the tunnel, washed in the light. If I kept going, I thought I might find them.” 

“Who was it, Jyn?”

“I…don’t remember.” Jyn swallowed and turned her head away, hoping to mask the strain on her face.

How could she lie to him, even now? He sunk back again, defeated. She couldn’t tell Cassian that it had been him at the end, beckoning her on to freedom. But she also couldn’t watch him now; beaten and wounded and bleeding from wounds she’d caused that could not heal. She’d escaped on her own, but he’d lit the way, extended the hand for her to grasp. He’d believed in her first, before she ever dared to believe in herself.

“No,” she corrected herself, with a much stronger voice than before, “it was you.”

A smile broke across his battered face, as if she'd professed her love again, then and there. He didn't fight his exhaustion or pain anymore, Jyn supposed, because he knew that she was keeping vigil.

  


Hours later, safely ensconced in the medical bay of Echo base, their bloody return caused quite the stir on the base, sending the leaders of the leadership council into throes of fear. Burdened with the urgent information, they agreed to postpone a formal meeting until after their key witnesses recovered enough to testify before the entire high command. 

Jyn left Cassian’s side only long enough for the medical droids to look her over. In spite of her injuries, or perhaps because of them, she was emboldened even more than usual and declined to be given a bed of her own. Even so, as the night wore on and Kaytoo finally left, Cassian’s grip upon her hand loosened as he drifted once more into sleep. Disentangling herself so as not to disturb him, she sought out a human doctor. Her needs were far too personal for a droid’s cold pragmatism. 

A young woman, dressed in clinical white, was bent over a sleeping pilot, checking his vital signs. She’d pinned her blonde hair into two knots on the sides of her head, a bothersome hairdo in Jyn’s opinion.

Jyn cleared her throat louder than was probably required.

“Excuse me?”

The woman turned, smoothing her hands upon the front of her shirtTo Jyn’s surprise, the woman’s eyes were rimmed with a tinge of purple from lack of sleep, her uniform was wrinkled, hardly the immaculate appearance that Jyn expected of her.  


“Uh, I’m Jyn Erso.”

“Yes, everyone knows who you are,” the woman’s face broke into a cheeky smile, and her voice was light and familiar, “the hero of Scarif and everything, right? How can I help you?”

_Now or never._

“I was wondering if you could help me...with a spice addiction.”

To Jyn's shock, the kindness in the doctor's eyes didn't vanish. Instead, she nodded her head and sat down for a while to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, because it was definitely a strange, cathartic experience, given the recent news about Carrie Fisher. She’s been one of my heroes for as long as I can remember and her bravery and candidness in the face of illness and struggle is something that I think we can/should learn from. In light of the outcome of her autopsy (and the negative press following it), I would like to take a moment to tell you that in no point in the writing of this fic have I intended to demean or disparage people who struggle with addiction. I’ve not been accused of such in any way (readers have only ever been kind and supportive!), but I wanted to let you all know this personally, so that you know that my intent never comes from a place of judgement or negativity. I initially chose spice addiction as a narrative device (though back when this was still a Western fic it was laudanum/opium), not as a teaching moment or moral argument. Jyn struggles, like Carrie did, with a disease that is life-long. The systems which allow drugs to proliferate and which cause harm (especially to the disenfranchised) are terrible, but the people who use those drugs aren’t. Addiction isn’t shameful. Carrie, like Jyn, was, and always will be—extraordinary.


	20. Broken Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian, Jyn and _Rogue One_ speak before the Council, but they meet opposition at every turn.

_I like to say to you_  
_Come follow_  
_But you may find, a heart's been hollowed out_  
_Seems the water here is shallow, it's over my head_  
_It’s still I swallowed_  
_I've thrown away my compass_  
_Done with the chart_  
_I’m tired of spinning around_  
_Looking for direction, northern star_  
_iI’m tired of spinning around_  
_I'll just step out_  
_Throw my doubt into the sea_  
_For what’s meant to be will be, will be_  
_~Compass (Sierra Hull)_

Terrified of yet another relapse, Jyn hadn’t slept a wink. Under the care of Dr. Mahuma, Jyn’s withdrawal symptoms hadn’t been so severe the second time around, a small miracle. Though she was initially wary of the new medicines prescribed by Mahuma, Jyn was thankful that they kept most of her cravings at bay. For the moment, she needed all of her attention to focus on convincing the council.

Based upon their current expressions, though, Jyn knew that the next hours would likely be a long, arduous uphill climb. Even if the High Council hadn’t found them mad before, they certainly must now. The rough band of six stood to the fore of the gathering, stooped and bruised, blinking slightly under the scrutiny of the stares and the bright lights of the command room. The blonde haired doctor, to Cassian’s chagrin, had forced him into a wheelchair, hovered over needlessly by an irate Kaytoo who wouldn’t let anyone “unauthorized” approach Cassian. Apparently, Bodhi forgot to change out of his Imperial pilot uniform, now decrepit with age and disuse, his still unwashed face covered in soot from the explosion within the mines. Jyn Erso herself spent most of the night at Cassian’s bedside and the rest speaking to the good doctor. 

She admired Mahuma’s tenacity; a stubbornness which matched her own. Mahuma listened with gentleness, but refused to abide by Jyn’s rules, instead substituting her own. Most of them, such as the drug regimen, Jyn could adhere too without much difficulty despite her misgivings. But others, such as prolonged rest and “time away from the action” were impossible in light of her misadventure in the cave.  
Cassian, as the highest ranking member of their party, spoke first to the council; his voice unflinching. There was a coldness to his speech, and he did not embellish any of the details, for it wasn’t needed. Leia, who began the meeting standing, slowly sank into a chair, her hands curled into her lap. Spying her fingers, Jyn thought that she clasped her hands so tightly that her nails must be nearly drawing blood. Pamlo’s face had become ashen, and Jyn wondered if secretly the woman yearned for the comfort of ignorance: what chance had the rebellion now? 

She wished that she could read Rieekan better. If they were lucky, the recent revelations might sway him from his usual stance of inflexible indifference. Surely he could look beyond his dislike for Leia and show them the support they needed? Only Arbus—webbed hand clenched in a fist on the table and head bowed—appeared to already be on their side. 

At the first mention of mind control, Jyn heard a sharp intake of breath from Pamlo. Rieekan attempted to cut over Cassian, but Leia silenced him at once with a raised hand. When at last his sordid tale ended, Cassian cast his glance around the room, awaiting the inevitable deluge of doubt and questions. He’d spoken with confidence, but Jyn could see it drained him of what little strength remained. In that instant, she wanted nothing more than to retreat with him to some far-flung planet where they could both recover. As if sensing her hesitation, his clammy hand covered her own and squeezed lightly. 

Behind them, Bodhi shifted from one foot to the other and Baze tapped his foot. It felt as though every person in the room, from Leia to Chirrut—awaited the response from the council without breathing.

“Do you really think they could plot something like this?” Pamlo’s voice remained level, but Jyn watched her eyes dart repeatedly to the doorway.

Admiral Arbus slammed his hand against the table; both Pamlo and Bodhi jumped with fright.

“It isn’t a question of planning. We know damn well that the Empire is evil enough. It’s a question of ability: how did they manage it? And why now?” 

Leia, apparently snapped out of a reverie, finally spoke:

“The Empire excels at shock and awe. We saw that on Scarif and Jedha. We’ve seen that for decades. But this, this is different. I always thought they would try to revive the Death Star or build a more terrifying weapon—but this is far more dangerous. We can’t wait around, letting them grow in strength and flood new systems with spice.” 

“Then what do you propose we do, Princess? We don’t have the might of the Galactic senate. We don’t even have the might of a full rebellion anymore. Who, exactly, do you plan to call to arms? I highly doubt your diplomacy can save us now. The Entire galaxy knows that you’ve spent most of our resources trying to bring your lover back from the dead. Some people should remain in their graves.” Rieekan spat with pure vitriol, and Leia’s face twisted for a moment, before she regained her composure. 

“Who would answer your call? You haven’t had any luck convincing others to join us.”

“If you didn’t spend every wretched breath undermining her, maybe she could get somewhere with our allies!” Arbus croaked across the table at Riekkan, clearly riling himself for a fight.

Jyn’s shoulder shook with frustration: how could they debate Leia’ political influence now when they had proof that the Empire was systematically poisoning the galaxy? Chirrut placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, urging her to remain calm. Looking at Leia now, Jyn decided that if Leia could withstand the barrage of insults, that so could she.

Leia sighed, her shoulders straining under the weight of her burden.

“Any credence or good faith I’ve built with other leaders is gone, I know that now. I’ve spent too much time trying to find Han and now Luke. I should have known—ages ago—when Han disappeared that it was the end, but I didn’t and the Alliance suffered for my mistakes. I’m done with chasing shadows now, Rieekan,” to Jyn’s ears, Leia’s voice sounded bitter, repulsed, exhausted, but not defeated; “I have a plan. Or, part of one, if you’ll do me the courtesy of listening.” 

Leia’s immaculate appearance frayed at the edges a bit: her white robe was wrinkled, as if it had been carelessly slept in. Her hair lacked its usual precision and style, hanging limply at her shoulders. Jyn supposed that she’d finally given Han—and now Luke—up for dead. Though she remained strong, the toll of their loss played out on her every feature.

“I think we need to send Rogue One to Tatooine. From what Jyn told us, the Empire has been allying with smugglers and traffickers to move their spice. The Hutt crime family owns that planet, and from what Lando tells me, they seem like the type to get into bed with the Empire if it suits their needs. Lando thinks that they might have been operating secret prisons for the Imperials, it would be a perfect test source for their spice. It isn’t much to go on, I know.” 

Jyn didn’t know who this Lando was, but if Leia trusted him, then Jyn decided that she would like him, too.

“It’s nothing to go on! The word of a womanizing smuggler and a _drug addict_.” Rieekan shouted, rising to his feet.

Jyn felt Chirrut’s gentle hand on her shoulder transform into a vicelike grip. He cleared his throat, and though he spoke calmly, his voice dripped with an almost pleasant-sounding menace:

“If it weren’t for smugglers, drug addicts, and zealots, you’d have no army left. Tell me why her words matter less than yours, when she has been in the center of the fighting and you have not. Tell me, what you have lost compared to us. Or compared to them.” 

With a wave of his hand, he gestured at both Leia and Jyn. Though the courteous smile never left Chirrut’s face as he spoke, his cheerfulness only hid the thinly veiled threat of violence. Baze tapped his fingers near his blaster canon’s trigger. Bodhi, embolden by Chirrut, spoke up loudly, cutting across any opposition to Chirrut.

“This is a volunteer force, right? Where would you be without us? _Where_?”

Rieekan’s eyes narrowed, Jyn supposed that he was angered that a lowly Imperial defector dared to question his authority. For all its talk of equality and freedom, how many of the Alliance’s leaders since Mon Mothma actually stopped the consider the cost of their war, even on their own side?

“Nearly 60% of the Alliance’s remaining forces are Imperial defectors. Of all combined forces, foot soldiers and pilots have suffered a casualty rate of 80%. Alliance High Council has lost only two.”

Even at his most pessimistic, Kaytoo wouldn’t count Han and Luke amongst the dead to spare Leia. In spite of her frustration, Jyn felt a rush of gratitude towards the droid even as she smirked in Rieekan’s direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! We're moving into the final chapters, guys. I'm not entirely sure as to how many are left (I always make a map, but somehow when I sit down to write the chapters end up being too long and need splitting! But we'll see!) I really can't thank you enough for sticking with me and these characters through everything.


	21. Until Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though slowly freezing, Cassian is unwilling to wake Jyn. At least, until he has a better idea...

_You dwell in the songs that we are singing,_  
_Rising to the Heavens, rising to your heart, your heart._  
_Our praises filling up the spaces_  
_In between our frailty and everything you are_  
_You are the keeper of my heart_  
_And I'm restless, I'm restless_  
_'Til I rest in You, 'til I rest in you_  
_I am restless, I'm restless_  
_'Til I rest in you, 'til I rest in You_  
_Oh God, I wanna rest in you_  
_Oh, speak now for my soul is listening_  
_Say that you have saved me, whisper in the dark, the dark._  
_'Cause I know you're more than my salvation_  
_Without you I am hopeless, tell me who you are_  
_You are the keeper of my heart_  
_You are the keeper of my heart_  
_~Restless (Audrey Assad)_

Usually, Cassian expected and even anticipated the knot of anxiety twisting his stomach into a coil. Why then tonight, of all nights, were his thoughts strangely untroubled and his mind at ease? It was a rare thing in his line of work; he decided that it must be because Jyn lay beside him, almost quiet, almost peaceful. She’d even managed to steal the blankets.

He hadn’t said much at all at the briefing. He hadn’t needed too, afterall, since Jyn and Bodhi and the rest made their points clear enough so that even Riekkan begrudging lent them an ear. It was only a small victory—a victory that could easily end in defeat—but a victory, nonetheless. It provided them with yet another chance to tip the scales back in their favor. Their mission was risky, but when was it ever not?  
Cassian didn’t know if he’d ever been prouder than when Jyn convinced the council to give them three days for rest. No good, she said, if your spies are too exhausted to move. That Dr. Mahuma must be working wonders on Jyn, getting her to slow down, getting her the help she needed. Until tomorrow, Cassian would allow himself the luxury of hope. Hope that she’d change, hope that he’d have the strength to help her if she fell again. Blind faith was a strange thing to bet one’s life on, but he’d relied on far less before. 

At any rate, he could worry about blind faith and the Force come daybreak. For now, he could enjoy the presence of the woman he loved beside him.

_I do love her. For better or worse._

He dared to admit it out loud only when he knew she had fallen asleep so soundly that his whispers would not wake her. Cassian wanted her to know, but didn’t want to interrupt her just now. Jyn needed sleep and she had certainly earned it.

In the dim light of their quarters, he could watch her slim shoulders rise and fall with her measured breathing. She was too perfect for words; unable to help himself, he pressed the smallest kiss to her shoulder, wishing it were bare. As she slept soundly beside him, he could almost ignore the cold. 

He longed to take her away from this, someplace warm with clean, fresh air. Together, they might find some place where she might run free without worry. She’d never lose that haunted look, not now, but she might allow herself to heal. Jyn might finally see herself worthy of life. They could settle in their own small abode on some forgotten moon and make their way in the world, quietly, as so many others did. They would settle down on chilly nights by the fireside and reminisce on the days gone by, of their exploits as spies and soldiers. As the years past, those daring acts would feel like legends even to them while the rest of the world would go on wondering: what became of Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor? Eventually, their names would become footnotes to the exploits of greater women and men.

Jyn might spend her days reading or gardening, Cassian could tend the fields. It wouldn’t take much to sustain them, for they sustained each other. She would never spend another night on the run, he’d never need to kill. Their souls might finally be given the time to heal. Would there be children? Skinny, gangly, long-legged children with their mother’s temper and their father’s eyes? A Galen, a Saw, a little Lyra? A man like Cassian didn’t deserve such a blessing.

Cassian never expected to live long enough to father children, much less find a woman with whom he could settle down. His various conquests over the years felt bitter, empty; he never would attach himself to a woman just for the sake of a legacy. Those liaisons, though numerous, were the mark of a man who had long since lost the only woman he cared for. He’d given up every other woman he might’ve had the moment he first heard of her presence on Cheyenne and he had not looked back. Not one of them had ever matched Jyn Erso. It wasn’t just sex, either: his connection with Jyn went far deeper. Even so, Cassian suspected that he and Jyn might never settle down, that this war would never give her the chance. He didn’t want to examine why the thought hurt so much. In his stomach, Cassian felt the cold clench of dread’s hand.

Try as he might, he couldn’t make that picture of them stick. Instead of a dream to cling to, it became a phantom life they would never achieve. Jyn and Cassian had spent too much of their lives and sacrificed too much of their honor in the fight. It would be enough to learn to live with each other, without bringing innocent children into it, too. But maybe, if they were lucky, they could survive the battles to come. At the end of all things, he wanted to find her, maybe not whole, maybe not completely happy, but alive. If she was willing to keep living, he could as well.

Neither the life they might have had together, nor the future yet to come were set in stone. There were far too many variables and far too many mistakes to ever know for certain: had he not boarded the Death Star, had she not followed, had he bled out before she got the chance…

In that instant, he was reminded of their first night together as lovers after Scarif. They’d spent the best part of the evening celebrating and boozing with the other survivors. They had shouted a hundred toasts, so loudly the dead might’ve heard them. It was the only night of celebration they had been permitted: the next morning they knew it would business as usual. Through the haze of fine Correlian ale, he had found her. Grabbed her hands, pulled her close, laughed as they struggled to stay upright. Lucky and a little shocked to still be living, they’d stumbling off to bed without thinking of the consequences. Everything about fucking in those days had been rushed and blurred; every night they fell asleep with the taste of each other on their tongues. In the morning, they went to work with the scent of each other on their clothes.

Everything about their days on Cheyenne had been murky, languid, and complicated by passing time and mismatched desire. They couldn’t let themselves know each other again then. They’d needed the liquor and she’d needed the spice to mask the scent of each other, to turn the taste to ash. Now, they could finally meet on equal footing with an equal love. 

There was no use mourning the love they could’ve had if things had worked out differently. At the moment, he could only be grateful for the time they had. Dwelling too long in the past could do neither of them any good. Instead, in his heart of hearts, Cassian knew he would hold to their three days for as long as he lived. Shifting closer to Jyn’s sleeping form, he attempted to wrest a corner of the blanket from the tangled nest she’d built around herself.

Gazing at her now, Cassian chuckled a little as her hands clutched the blankets ever closer. With just a tap of his finger, he could wake her up and tell her all of the things he’d been thinking. All of his hopes and dreams that he dare not consider and all the fears he tried to banish. 

Cassian gave the sheets one more, half-hearted tug before giving up. He settled for slipping in beside her, praying the warmth of her body would be enough to spare him from Hoth’s deathly chill. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that the cold of his body pressed against her might wake her up. 

In an instant, Jyn shot bolt upright in bed, dragging the covers with her. Cassian let them slip through his fingers. 

“What the hell?”

With her bleary eyes and hair tousled by pleasant slumber, she looked quite unlike the Jyn he knew.

“Too cold for you?” Cassian asked calmly, though he gritted his teeth against the cold. Even wearing his heaviest down vest wasn’t enough to keep out the chill without some kind of covering. The covering, incidentally, that Jyn was still keeping out his reach.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jyn wrapped herself still tighter and swatted Cassian’s hand as he reached for her.

“I could say the same thing to you, Jyn. Are you just going to let me freeze to death here?”

“I admit, I’m seriously considering it,” Jyn grumbled as she inched further away from him, “you’re a cold-hearted bastard.”

“Only because you've left me cold. Maybe I should just take them from you? Give you a taste of what you’ve put me through?”

Cassian suspected that she relinquished her pile of sheets and blankets because otherwise he would take them by force. Such shenanigans could only lead to one thing, and Cassian had no plans to let her give up so easily. With three days to themselves, they might indulge their baser impulses and still have enough time for sleep and rest. As they settled down together minutes later, Jyn subdued but still grumpy, Cassian made a show of looping his arms about her. She shifted into his arms and let her head touch the pillow. In that instant, he grabbed a fistful of blankets and tugged, taking them with him as he rolled to the far side of the bed.

With a shout that sounded suspiciously like a war cry, Jyn lunged across the bed at him. Expecting this, Cassian rolled over her, dodging her attack but only for a second. In another instant she fell upon him, clawing at his cocoon and barely keeping the laughter out of her voice.

“Oh come on, I didn’t do it intentionally to you! This isn’t fair!”

With her hands, she lightly pummeled at his body as he squirmed away. Unable to keep her quarry still, Jyn opted to sit on Cassian. Light though she may be, her weight pinned him to the bed. Though he fought her valiantly, he did not have the use of his legs or arms.

“There! What do you say to that?”

If Jyn suspected his motives in these antics, she did not show it. She played straight into his hands. 

“Cassian?”

Before she had the chance to move, he leaned forward and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, somehow life just keeps getting in the way. We're definitely in the home stretch here, folks. I thought it might be nice to have a *mostly* happy little chapter before the final arc, since that one will be emotionally draining to finish writing. All the same, I hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> UPDATE: I've officially decided to continue my fic "The Rebel and the Revolutionary", so I'm currently planning out the plot for that one. After Extraordinary, I'll probably take a week or two off to decompress and write (maybe write a one-shot or two for @therebelcaptainnetwork prompts) the first couple of chapters.


	22. Leaning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to their final mission, the _Rogue One_ crew must formulate a new plan on the fly.

_I'd heard rumors and I'd heard talk_   
_About the trail you'd left of broken hearts_   
_About the sea of tears too wide to cross_   
_But a little bad press has never scared me off_   
_So I burned a path to figure out_   
_How to get me some of what you got_   
_I've got a red hot heart_   
_If the talk is true yours is the same_   
_We should be together_   
_And let our passions fan love's flame_   
_When I looked for you I almost passed you by_   
_You were so cool and calm_   
_I thought my friends had lied_   
_But I thought so much reserve must make you wild inside_   
_It was there and then that I knew_   
_I had to get some of what you got_   
_I've got a red hot heart_   
_~Smoke and Ashes (Tracy Chapman)_

Standing beside her now en route to Tatooine, Cassian wondered at the turn his life had taken. Jyn Erso made him feel reckless and helpless and out of control. He hated the feeling of falling through space and time, unaware of where he’d land, but he secretly loved it, too. Years of spying taught him that such attachment inevitably led to destruction, but her takeover of his heart had been absolute, and in her presence he no longer felt like a man slowly sinking into black despair. He’d carelessly traded drowning for burning, of course, but how could he complain when hours later, he could still feel her scorching heat upon his skin? 

For the oncoming heat on Tatooine, he’d stripped down to regulation-issue cargo pants and his customary linen yellow shirt. It had seen half a hundred fire fights and assassinations, and as Kay liked to remind him, should surely be retired. Cassian liked to joke back that the shirt would outlive him. 

Jyn stared out of the viewport on the vessel, unaware of the bustle of the crew around her. Though she too was dressed for the heat in grey cotton utility wear, she’d looped her arms about her middle, as if to ward off Hoth’s cold. But they were lightyears away, now, on their way to yet another foolhardy mission, the kind that only Rogue One might attempt. The kind that often got better men than Cassian maimed or killed. Borrowed time inevitably ran out, leaving only ash and regret behind. Today could be his final day, or the day after. Since Scarif, he had felt the seconds tick by, reminding him that his life was fleeting, reminding him that those things in life which ripple across space and time, those things like love and friendship and family, are hard won but easily lost. He’d spent countless nights and lives tracking her down and now he wouldn’t let her go again so easily. Only death could take him away from her now. He feared that death would come too soon to collect its debt. Cassian inched as close as he dared.

He could read her expressions as easily as he might read an intelligence dispatch, he had, almost from the beginning. When they’d met, she hadn’t looked like a young woman, barely out of her teens. She’d looked like a hardened criminal: dirty, rough around the edges, brutal in combat. Unwilling to take prisoners; unwilling to let herself free from the trauma of a childhood snatched away. Now, she more closely resembled the woman he’d nearly kissed on Scarif: war-weary, battered, hopeful, but frightened. There was a little concentration line that always appeared when she was lost in thought, nestled between her brows. She must be thinking about something, worried about something. That particular something, he realized, was harder to determine. 

Their lives, he knew, were so fucked that he could likely take his pick of any number of troubles. Her spice addiction, the coming mission, the state of their rebellion in all its tattered glory. What he hadn’t expected, however, was Jyn to turn to him, looping her arms around herself in comfort, while she spoke:

“I asked the council for three days of rest. Do you know why?”

Cassian shook his head, but inched closer to her, tugging her close. What point was there in hiding anymore, especially from their closest friends? If the others minded, they did not outwardly show it. Kaytoo grudgingly averted his stare. Even so, Cassian’s felt the momentary burning of Chirrut’s eyes upon his back as the Guardian of the Whills knelt to check their supplies.

“It wasn’t about rest, it was about withdrawal. I was doped when the blast blew the mine; you and Bodhi would probably be fine. One exposure probably isn’t enough, but I’ll bet anything that habitual exposure makes the spice more potent. How else could they control so many people? But you saw what happened in the mine; I won’t be a weapon used against you.”

Cassian couldn’t shake the thought that she was still their best weapon: unpredictable, brilliant, and destructive. 

“After everything that I’ve done…do you think she’d still be proud of me?”

Cassian didn’t need to question who she was talking about. It was a trade he’d often considered for himself: he owed his life to the woman beside him, and the woman who had urged Jyn to save him, at the cost of her own. That decision brought ruin down upon them all, but in the end, he found her again. Had Mon Mothma suspected from the first what had taken Jyn and himself so long to acknowledge? 

“I think she never would have stopped.”

“I’m the reason she’s gone, Cassian.” Jyn whispered, turning her steady gaze from the viewport at last.

“I think Mon Mothma knew that day, the day we destroyed the Death Star, when she sent you away what would happen to her. I think she sent you away knowing and understanding the consequences. This rebellion took everything from you, your father, your mother, even Saw—and she wouldn’t let it take me away from you, too.”

Jyn sighed and shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his suggestion. He doubted his words of comfort would ever entirely stitch that particular wound: some mistakes cut so deeply that no matter what, they could not heal. Some ghosts were never quite banished: Cassian knew that all too well. He’d carry the mistake of letting her get away to the day he died. 

“She wouldn’t have done all of that at the expense of the rebellion. Trading my happiness for her life? When she barely knew me? It’s a fucking joke.”

“Mon Mothma probably saw it as a fair trade. The way the rebellion used you—the way we all used you—was cruel. She belonged to the old world—a world of fairness and diplomacy. But you? You belong to the new world, a world that’s built on fighting and struggle and the grey parts of life that she always hated. She wanted us to inherit the world and to make it better.”

“Then she wanted too much,” Jyn stated bluntly, “I’ve never been good at playing the hero. I turned my back on the rebellion for three years while the rest of you were out dying. Do you think Mon Mothma expect that?”

“She didn’t expect the rebellion to turn on you the way it did…she didn’t expect me to give up so easily.”

“And what about now?”

Jyn stood before him, slight but with a stalwart strength he knew all too well. As bruised and battered as she was, she was still as beautiful as she had been in their final moments on Scarif. In another life, he might have taken her, kissed her on a beach of golden sand, watched the sun set. In this life, however, he was prepared to love with her with abandon for as long as he could.

“I’m never giving up again.”

She seemed to weigh his words. Content—more or less—she nodded and rested her side against his.

“Even when I try your patience? Even when I drive you mad?”

“Yes,” he stated emphatically, hoping the others were still pretending not to pay them any attention.

“Even when you realize that you can’t always save me?”

Cassian knew that he could find her hand in the dark and lead her out of the cave, but that she would never leave unless she decided to free herself. As much as he always hoped to be, he could not always be her savior. Jyn clawed her way out of the pit, time and time again, and this time would be no different. He could light the way, lend a hand, but in the end, it would be Jyn who would emerge, battered but triumphant.  
“Even then,” Cassian whispered, keenly aware that Chirrut ceased his rummaging through rucksacks. Even with his back turned it was quite obvious to Cassian that he was eavesdropping. The others, at least, were putting on a show of being too busy with other tasks to notice.

“You know, I can’t stop thinking about Leia. It’s stupid, I know, but she’s lost so much.”

Cassian shrugged. “She reminds me a bit of you, actually.”

Jyn laughed, then: a loud, inelegant guffaw. Cassian sensed Kaytoo bristling from across the room. 

“Like me? Maybe her short temper but what else?”

“Suffering. Strength.”

Nodding, Jyn turned her attention back to the blackness of space. Did she long, the way he did, for anonymity and their own little corner of the universe? Did she envision an end to the suffering in some distant future?

“When we were apart, back before, days would go by and I wouldn’t think of you. I’d be too drunk or beaten up, half-dead in a ditch, ready for it all to end. Then I’d remember you, out there somewhere. I never thought you’d be looking for me.”

Cassian wasn’t entirely sure what angle Jyn was taking: was it the precariousness of their current position, the danger they were in, that prompted such honesty? Or was it something deeper? He could read her face like a book, understand her intentions, but sometimes her motivations remained as murky as her past.

“What did you do when you remembered me?”

“Usually, I’d go on a long bender.”

It was Cassian’s turn to laugh. How could such a woman be his?

_Well, almost._

It was just one more mission. One more great effort. Then another and another. And maybe, if they were lucky, they’d both come out on the other side. A bit battered, a bit bruised, but whole enough to continue if they could just lean on each other.

As he reached for her, she shrunk away. Not so much out of avoidance, but out of contemplation. The furrow between her brows was more pronounced now; her eyes fixed in concentration. Her mind ran wild; burning with a thousand thoughts at once. Cassian fought the urge to tuck a tendril of her curly brown hair behind her ear. She’d likely swat him away. But then she spoke, far more candidly than he had come to expect:

“Sometimes, I can’t help wondering if the lucky ones died on Scarif. They died believing in hope, believing that there was a chance in this fucked up universe. The rest of us? We had to go on living with the truth.”

“And what truth is that?” Cassian questioned calmly.

“That it’s neverending. But I don’t think I mind anymore. Not if I’m with you,” Jyn said in a hush, “or with them. “Even Kay.”

“Speaking of which,” Cassian said, a bit louder, “I think you’ll find he’s been listening in.”

Turning around, Cassian found his crew paused, mid-movement, in various stages of feined work. Bodhi, despite maneuvering the ship through warp space, had found himself engrossed in a crack in the ceiling well above Baze’s head. Likewise Chirrut became fascinated by the grooves of his staff, as if he’d never noticed them before. He ran his fingers up and down, preending he did not know their eyes were upon him. Even Baze attempted to look distracted, fidgeting in a corner. Only Kaytoo stared them down.

“Now that you are finished, Cassian, maybe we can discuss the mission?”

He kept his tone light, but Cassian noted the edge to his voice. Kaytoo always had an eye for details, the minuatae of strategies and odds that even Cassian himself frequently overlooked these days. In the past few years, however, Kaytoo had become almost pedantic in his quest for understanding every angle. Did that damn droid spend every moment running through each conceivable scenario? Sometimes, it was no wonder that Jyn found him intolerable. But, then Cassian remembered that day on the Death Star, with Kaytoo running the odds and still never once even thinking about leaving his side. 

“Sure, Kay, we can discuss the mission.”

Taking Jyn’s hand, he led her from the viewport back to their friends.

“What is it you’d like to know, Kay. You were at the briefing, same as me.”

“Yes, I know about the plan. If you can call it that. What I was thinking, however, was that we shouldn’t take a landing party this time. If we go in, we should go in together.”

Kaytoo cocked his head, as if to gauge Cassian’s response. Jyn cut him off before he could respond.

“Leave the ship alone? That can’t be supported by the odds, Kaytoo.” 

“It isn’t, Jyn Erso. But neither was Cassian coming back for you. This idea, however, is far superior.”

Cassian crossed his arms, willing to hear Kaytoo out. It was out of his usual circuitry to suggest taking a statistically riskier path.

“I think Kay’s right, Cassian. Everytime we split up, something goes wrong. I’d rather us all be together. Besides, it’s the Hutt stronghold, right? They’re bound to have other ships we can scrounge if it comes to that, right?” 

Bodhi’s eyes were bright. It was difficult to argue with such enthusiasm; letting down Bodhi Rook felt like committing a crime. In spite of his best judgement, Cassian could tell that he would inevitably fold.

“Then we’ll need a better plan to get us all in…how do we hide a traitor pilot, a blind monk, an angry monk, a giant robot, and Galen Erso’s daughter?”

“Don’t forget your own skinny ass, Captain.” For once, Baze’s use of the epithet “Captain” didn’t drip with disdain or threaten violence. It sounded almost affectionate.

“I might have something,” Jyn suggested as the others leaned in closer to hear, “but it’s crazy, even for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, as always. I don't deserve readers as loyal and awesome as you guys. :) This chapter ended up split, so unfortunately it'll be a little while longer before the second half (but I'll try to make it worth it, yeah?). I hope you don't mind a little bit more fluff before the heavier stuff. But we always knew that was coming, right? Or it wouldn't be the universe of _Extraordinary_. Apparently, my schedule will be changing week to week, which isn't ideal for writing but I'll post regular updates on my tumbler, @Bluestockng, so you guys will know better when to check in.


	23. Dust & Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Rogue One_ arrives on Tatooine with a crazy plan. But will Jyn overcome her demons long enough to win?

_Hang on, just hang on for a minute_  
_I've got something to say_  
_I'm not asking you to move on or forget it_  
_But these are better days_  
_To be wrong all along and admit is not amazing grace_  
_But to be loved like a song you remember_  
_Even when you've changed_

_Tell me did I go on a tangent?_  
_Did I lie through my teeth?_  
_Did I cause you to stumble on your feet?_  
_Did I bring shame on my family?_  
_Did it show when I was weak?_  
_Whatever you see, that wasn't me_  
_That wasn't me, that wasn't me_

_When you're lost you will toss every lucky coin you'll ever trust_  
_And you'll hide from your god like he never turns his back on us_  
_And you'll fall all the way to the bottom and land on your own knife_  
_And you'll learn who you are even if it doesn't take your life_  
_~That Wasn’t Me (Brandi Carlile)_

Jyn supposed that her fortuity in life often rested upon sheer, dumb luck and grit. At the moment, she couldn’t exactly say which this plan would require more of. Either way they were probably fucked. Jyn had not expected bubbly enthusiasm or cheers of joy after she provided the details of her idea. She also had not expected the blank, dull stares that greeted her. Baze spoke first, echoing what the other surely must be thinking:

“This is a terrible plan.” With barely a growl, Baze eyed Cassian warily, as if waiting to see if he would spring to Jyn’s defense.

“Yeah, it’s the worst.” Even Bodhi chimed in, arms crossed across his chest. She could sense his hesitancy even now in contradicting her. Surely they realized how much she doubted herself, too? 

“Listen, I said it’s crazy. I know it’s insane and stupid. But if you’ve got something better I’m all in.”

Jyn knew how earnest her voice sounded: was this why they followed her so blindly, always? Her speeches, unlike Leia or Mon Mothma, were neither polished nor eloquent. She was too rushed, too furious: too prone to emotion and fits of anger. It worked, so she wouldn’t be changing just now.

“We’ve had luck in the past—on Scarif—going undercover and infiltrating an enemy base. How is this any different?”

Jyn could had kissed Cassian for backing her up. She half suspected his loyalty stemmed from a desire to maintain their gentle truce and avoid provoking her before a major mission. Even so, she loved him a little more for it.

“We had disguises, an enemy ship, an enemy ship…here, we’re charging in and hoping that they’ll believe we’ve got stolen Empire cargo to sell.”

“But we do have stolen cargo, Bodhi.”

Bodhi shifted from one foot to the other, glancing around the ship, as if looking for some hidden cargo he hadn’t yet seen.

“Kaytoo, what fee would a smuggler pay for your parts on the black market?”

Kaytoo sighed grumpily, evidently particularly uninterested in their plotting.

“If you ever listened, you would know that I’m a KX-series security droid. I was manufactured for security and riot control. My parts which are essential for those functions are not interchangeable with any ordinary protocol droid. The Empire keeps tight control of the supply. A droid in my superior condition would warrant…” 

If it was even possible, a shocked look flashed momentarily in his eyes.

“Cassian…Cassian…no.”

The moment when Cassian truly smiled were rare; this time, however, Jyn knew that the smirk was undeniable. Cassian Andor was actually enjoying himself.

“You want them to take ME for spare parts?”

Unconcerned, Jyn shrugged and crossed her arms. She couldn’t let Cassian have all the fun. If she died today, at least she’d get one final dig in. It might just calm her nerves. 

“We work with what we’ve got. Maybe you’ll get a shiny new head!”

“I don’t want a shiny new head. CASSIAN!” Kaytoo turned his head, pleading with his friend to spare him the indignity. In the corner, Chirrut barely contained his laughter behind his hand.

“I think you’d look great with a shiny new head, Kay,” Cassian suggested, his face returning casually to its usual impassivity. 

“But there’s nothing wrong with my head!”

“It’s a shame there’s nothing wrong with your mouth.” Baze offered, evidently willing to overlook the holes in Jyn’s plot if it meant causing a bit of trouble for Kaytoo. 

“Just be more convincing than last time, won’t you, Kay? We don’t need an entire squad of troopers coming down on our backs.”

With a hint of playfullness, Cassian patted an affronted-looking Kaytoo on the back. 

“Even if they do, we’ll be there this time, too,” Chirrut offered with a small smile, “though I would prefer not to be bagged again if I can help it.”

“Nobody’s going to get bagged today, Chirrut.” Jyn stated absentmindedly, as she tightened the straps of her leather gloves. She pulled the leather taught; gearing herself up for war. If they were lucky, the intel mission would be quick and easy. Since when did missions go easily for them? They were rarely lucky.

“We have our ruse, our way in, and our way out if we need it. The Hutts are greedy, if the Force is on our side, they won’t be the type to ask a lot of questions. But, just in case, I shouldn’t be the one to do the talking.” 

Jyn had made a name for herself in the underworld of Cheyenne; if Armynda ever dealt with the Hutts, it would be best for her to remain in the shadows. Cassian could do the talking. He was still a risk, of course, as were the others, but most anyone who might recognize them were likely long dead. 

In preparation for this outing, Jyn traded her derringer for a more powerful, practical blaster. Even so, she tucked her little blaster into her boot. That trick had saved her once already. She also specifically requested a pair of truncheons to replace those she’d lost on Cheyenne. Killing from a distance was Cassian’s specialty, she preferred looking into the eyes of her enemies. Jyn tapped her holster to steal herself. Evidentally, the others were convinced enough for they returned to their various anticipatory tasks.

Constant motion might be their salvation. Jyn tried to ignore their fucked plan by reminding herself of everything that fell in their favor: Cassian could lie convincingly, and if that failed, they could fall back on her squad’s fighting ability. They wouldn’t separate this time…they had a unified plan…they had each other. Then why did she feel the cold clench grip and twist her stomach? She searched the beauty of space for answers, but found it only cold and black.

Looking out the viewport did nothing to abate the gloomy shadow of doubt; even from the distance she spotted the looming dunes of Tatooine’s desert. Her shoulders shook a little at the memory of Cheyenne’s arid landscape and never-ending, rolling sand. Not an instant later, she felt a calming hand at the small of her back. Managing a tenuous smile, she turned to face Cassian only to find Bodhi.

“Sorry,” he mouthed, shuffling closer.

“For what?” Jyn asked, not really bothering to whisper.

“I don’t know, it just felt right to say it.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Half this crew owes you their life. That’s a hell of a thing.”

Bodhi grinned sheepishly, looking even younger than usual. He rocked back and forth on his feet, evidently facing some difficully in hiding his own apprehension.

“Not bad for an Imperial pilot, right?”

“Ex-Imperial pilot,” Jyn tweaked his ponytail. He swatted her hand away, but only a little seriously.

They stood in companionate silence for a while longer: did Bodhi remember their many shared nights on the run? Did he realize that his influence kept her self-destructive tendencies at bay just long enough? Did he know how grateful she was? Did any of them? They must; afterall, they were prepared to stride once more into death’s valley on her orders. 

“It’ll be okay, Jyn.” He squeezed her hand before rejoining the others. 

They were handing out tattered and patchwork cloaks, evidently the best disguises they could muster from their meager supplies. Cassian threw Bodhi a worn green poncho before selecting a leather jacket for himself. Baze handed Jyn a quilted vest and a long, fraying, gray scarf. With a jolt, she thought of their introduction on Jedha. 

Wrapping it around her face, Jyn decided that her thin disguise would have to do. The others looked the part, too: Chirrut exchanged his robes for a utility grey uniform and cape, splattered with dust and fuel; Cassian wore the dark leather well, he’d even strapped an extra blaster to his hip; Baze didn’t bothering dressing for the part. His size alone was intimidating enough.

It wasn’t much, it might never be enough, but for a single, fleeting moment, she didn’t think about the mission ahead or the past behind. She just thought of her strange, mismatched band and hoped she’d see them on the other side.

 

As she stepped forth from the safety of _Rogue One_ , the dry Tatooine air sucked the breath from her lungs. The sheen of sweat that clung to Jyn’s face evaporated in the heat. Before her, somewhere in the recesses of a sandblasted palace, were the answers the Rebellion desperately needed. Despite the climbing temperatures and her heavy clothing, she felt the prickle of goosebumps on the back of her neck. It was another planet she thought of, now: other times, other mistakes. Under the glaring, accusatory gaze of the desolate suns, Jyn felt the tug of guilt and fear. More out of a desire for some small comfort rather than necessity, she clutched the scarf around her face. 

_Try not to think. Don’t remember. Not Cheyenne, not the cave. Stick to your guns._

A few paces away, Cassian’s fingers rested near his holsters. Chirrut clutched his staff to his chest. She averted her eyes, unwilling to consider the deathtrap she led them into. 

_Answers. We’re just after answers._

But was it answers, or a deathwish? For all her trying and treatment, she kept finding herself running blindly, charging headlong into the latest disaster. For years she’d lived like this; refusing to look back out of fear and desperation. The forces which long controlled her life always urged her to run, to keep moving, to keep forgetting. And yet, she never found herself on the other side of it. Whenever she thought that she migtt finally be done—Jedha, Scarif, Eadu—she stepped out of the flames only to find the others around her blackened and charred and brutalized while she remained numb to it all.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding, even as she followed Cassian down the gritty stone steps through a high archway. This palace must be far older than any of the structures built on Cheyenne: the place felt ancient but strangely quiet as if silenced in a single rush. Raised in Saw Gerrera’s various dens of iniquity, she’d expected lewd music, chatting, drunken guffaws and twirling women. Instead, she found a palace—once of grandeur and grace—eroded to stone and dust by the corrupting force of greed. 

“This is too easy.” Cassian muttered as his eyes scanned each single crack and crevice of the palace walls. “There should be guards…my contacts always met guards…”

“Could they be expecting us?” Chirrut asked calmly, but he looked alert as ever.

“I don’t think so,” Cassian began to speak, but flung out an arm to keep Bodhi from walking on. “Stop.”

Jolting to a halt, Jyn strained to hear within the tomb-like palace. Faintly, she could hear the rhythm of feet against stone.

“Hold steady!” Cassian urged their group calmly, but Jyn saw his hand stray to his blaster. 

Jyn supposed that if she didn’t know them better, she could believe they were a tough gang of smugglers. They certainly dressed the part, but she’d known enough real criminals to spot the miniscule differences without too much study. Cassian was too calculated; he wouldn’t order enough drinks to get truly drunk. The rowdy crowds she’d run with didn’t exactly celebrate sobriety and didn’t much care about sloppiness as long as the cargo got dropped. Chirrut’s movements, though intended to be intimidating, were still impossible graceful. Bodhi still bit his fucking lip. The footfalls grew closer: Jyn clenched her fists.

We’re black market smugglers, looking to rid ourselves of dangerous cargo. Just smugglers. 

“You know the plan, Kaytoo?” 

“Infiltrate the palace—complete. Impersonate a malfunctioning droid and gather intel undercover—possibly underway. Escape without being killed—ludicrously unlikely.” Kaytoo whispered.

“Good. You’ll need to avoid being reprogrammed.”

“Funny, I hadn’t realized that, Cassian. I hadn’t even considered it in all of the dozens of scenarios I ran in my head…thank you for your continued concern about my well-being.”

“Sure thing, Kay. Be careful, okay? We won’t be far away after they pay.”

Now, the footsteps were loud enough that Jyn could tell that a crowd of people must be sprinting for their direction. It wasn’t a comforting thought: the walls were so close that a firefight would be deadly, possibly risking bringing the stone walls down. Their stampeding feet echoed the pounding of her heart within her chest. Kaytoo’s japes did nothing to comfort her. 

“Beep! Boop! I am a droid.”

“Cut it out, Kay.”

“I am a broken droid…a broken droid who needs to be fixed…”

Jyn wanted to punch Kay and dent him, but she refused the urge. Soon enough, she might have to turn that anger on whoever approached. With each second, she felt the others grow more restless. The longer the transaction took, the more danger they’d be in, that was undeniable.

Just as Jyn felt that her nerves might snap, a posse of Stormtroopers rushed around the bend in the hallway. All thoughts of negotiation and trading droids vanished. Beside her, she saw the flash of light as Cassian drew from the hip and fired. Ahead of them, a trooper collapsed to the ground, a charred hole in the dead center of his chest. Drawing her own weapon, she fired blindly, aiming for white armor.

The walls and pillars shook with the force of the onslaught; dust and loose stone tumbled down from the ceiling. Within seconds, the Stormtroopers closed the distance gap. It was a disadvantage for Cassian and Bodhi. At close ranger, Baze wouldn’t be likely to shoot his repeater canon unless their backs were to the walls.

She and Chirrut, however, were in their element. Even through the smoky air, she faintly made out the shape of Chirrut’s cape twirling and the tap of his staff as it made contact with hard bodies. Jyn grappled with a nearby Stormtrooper who had been foolish enough to attack her without support. She could’ve used his own weight against him and send him flying into a pillar, but instead, she drew her truncheons. That old familiar feeling flooded back; reminding her of a hundred bar brawls and fistfights. She might struggle with leading men or taking orders, but killing? That would never be a struggle.

When her first truncheons hit a Stormtrooper helmet, she felt the armor give way, quickly followed by another flurry of blows to the same spot, accompanied by a nauseating thud. A warm ooze of sweat or blood seeped down her arm, but she ignored it. Drowned by sand and dust, she could no longer make out the silhouettes of her friends, but she could still hear muffled screams and occasional burst of a shot. Jyn dodged the body of an unfortunate Stromtrooper soaring through the air, thrown roughly by Kaytoo: the body collided with a stone wall and fell limply, shaking the palace to its foundations. 

_So much for being careful._

Jyn relied on muscle memory and instinct: she lashed out violently, connecting her blows to vulnerable spots as if guided by some invisible hand. A Stormtrooper, bleeding badly from under his helmet, stumbled into her line of vision. He was likely on the way out, anyway, but she pulled him close as if for an embrace, and fired a single blaster shot through the base of his helmet. She forced his body away as the next Stormtrooper replaced him and was dispatched just as quickly. 

She kept swinging, never pausing even to catch her breath. She simply trusted that her friends—that Cassian—must still be standing. She wouldn’t let herself believe that a measly cluster of Stormtroopers could finish them now.  
When finally the dust settled enough for her to see, she counted those left standing: only her five friends. The Stormtroopers littered the floor at their feet, their blood leaking out onto the stones. A few stirred feebly, but Baze quickly dispatched them. Chirrut took a seat upon one, apparently unconcerned with the carnage. Bodhi slumped against a wall and wiped his brow.

Jyn brushed sweaty hair out of her eyes, surveying the remains of the temple and of the Stormtrooper crew. Her friends had been roughed up, but for once, no injuries. Her eyes sought Cassian’s to reassure him or to smile, but he was too busy picking over the corpses to notice her attention. She watched as he prodded one with his boot, then flipped it over cautiously.

“Jyn, come here.”

Something about Cassian’s voice struck her as off: it didn’t sound like his usual detached gruffness. It sounded too urgent. In a heartbeat, she cleared the distance between them. An errant shot apparently struck the Stormtrooper’s head, violently shearing off a piece of his helmet and revealing the mottled skin beneath. To Jyn’s horror, however, the face was not that of a human male, but of a Quarren smuggler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're just 3 or so chapters away from the final chapter. I can't believe I've been working on this story for so long. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride half as much as me. As always, thank you for being awesome and loyal and making all the work 110% worthwhile.


	24. The Lucky Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn, Cassian, and the entire crew of Rogue One will need the Force on their side to escape Tatooine with their lives...

_Ghosts and angels are but memories and visions_   
_And revenants are out there taking up positions_   
_But back when I believed in you_   
_You’d raise the sun and set the moon_   
_How could I help but love you holy as religion_   
_Away you are going, away you are gone_

_But back when I believed in luck and words as spoken_   
_I found a lie could break and split the world clean open_   
_And grief became my company_   
_Pain so deep I could not breathe_   
_All betrayal is like dying in slow motion_

_Is it luck that makes us shout or makes us whisper_   
_Is it luck that makes us wise or turns us bitter_   
_With our maps that point true north_   
_With our vows we sally forth_   
_The swords we carried can’t protect us from each other_   
_~Swords We Carried (Mary Chapman Carpenter)_

Had Jyn Erso ever truly understood fear before that moment? Surely, in her short, tortured life, she had experienced fear so overwhelming she could hardly breathe. This was a fear so sure that she could not move a single muscle to free herself from its clutches. She had, after all, spent most of her life smuggling, killing, and dodging the firing squad by a hair. 

But if she ever had felt fear so profound before, she could not recall it. For the briefest moment, her mind went completely blank. For that moment, it completely overwhelmed her. All at once, she found herself alone in a dingy flat, drowning in half-empty bottles of Corellian ale, discarded needles, and strangers' discarded clothes. 

Just as quickly as It came, however, she shook herself loose. Fear and death dogged her, but she might outrun them a bit longer, yet.

“GO!”

She recognized the shock on Cassian’s face. When Bodhi pushed past them to investigate, she slammed herself into his shoulder, hard, and flung him towards the exit.

“Back to the ship!”

But before they could even begin an escape, the earth gave way beneath her feet, and Jyn tumbled down, down into the waiting darkness.

 

When she came to, she wondered if she might be dreaming; imagining a glamour of her transcendent journey into the cave. Now, like then, she saw nothing but blackness surrounding her, but could see Cassian surrounded by glimmering light reaching for her. 

_I must be dead._

But the illusion snapped in an instant: it was a pit, not a cave. And the stars were likely the result of a rock upon which she hit her head. Cassian’s wasn’t bathed in beautiful light, he was bruised by falling rubble and covered in ancient dirt. But still, he reached for her.

Quickly, she jumped to her feet, brushed off the debris of the fall. 

“Everyone alright?”

She heard a few murmurs and coughing; enough to assure herself that the others were largely unhurt. Aside from an angry welt above one eyes and a jagged sting in her side, Jyn felt fine. She made ready for a fight. 

“We’ve still got our weapons, whatever they’re planning they’re fu—“ 

A stirring at the edge of her vision cut Jyn off. Inching closer, her eyes adjusted to the impenetrable blackness. At the far end of the pit, the corpse of an enormous beast loomed out of the dark at her. Even Kaytoo would be dwarfed by such a monster. Its thick hide reeked of decay; a blessing for Jyn. A small miracle of the Force.

The bigger miracle, it turned out, was the identity of two writhing figures bound in ropes beneath its shadow. Calling the others over, she worked with deft hands to remove the ragged bindings and filthy gags. Jyn did not know them by sight. Indeed, she would not know them from any other mangy space bandits if it weren’t for Cassian.

“Luke. Han?”

In the dim environment, Jyn couldn’t make out many distinguishing features. What she could make out, however, was the frantic way the larger man shook his grungy head. Han Solo’s chest heaved with the effort to speak.

“Cassian…it’s a trap. It’s a _trap_.”

“We figured that part out, funny enough,” Kaytoo mused, but Baze cut him off with a well-timed punch.

“You dented me!”

Jyn ignored him. But before she could interrogate the men further, a red-hot noose caught Jyn by the neck and hoisted her upwards. As the leather bit into her skin and strangled her, she felt Cassian and Bodhi’s prying hands reach vainly for her ankles. The fear returned.

Kicking her legs did nothing. Screaming did nothing, for the leather rope silenced all sound from her throat as it slowly crushed her windpipe. Her legs dangled, helplessly out of reach of those who might rescue her. Clawing desperately against the agonizing pain, she still could not fray or damage the strong noose. The suspension lasted only a moment, but that single second stretched longer than any other in her life. One by one, the blood vessels in her eyes burst, bleeding red. She prayed for the firestorm on Scarif. She prayed for Cassian; he shouldn’t watch her die like this. Her legs fell limp.

The next thing she knew, her back slammed into cold, hard stone. Gasping, Jyn could neither stand nor move, Death only slacked its grip upon her throat a little. She could hear shouting, but it wasn’t her, it was her friends. Bodhi, Cassian, even Kaytoo. They called for her, bringing her back to her.

Coughing, close to sobbing, she somehow maneuvered her body onto all fours. Every muscle of her body shrieked for oblivion, anything to number her pain. A boot caught her chin and forced her face upwards.  
“Alydra Alphard, darling, it’s been far too long.”

Jyn’s stomach dropped like a missed skipping stone sinking to the deep.

I’ll be damned if I let Armynda see that. _italic_

She spat at Armynda’s face. With her slimy hand, Armynda flippantly wiped it away.

“How did you like your little dance in space, my girl? Was it as bad as being shot in the gun, do you think? Or nearly drowning in your own bathtub? Or burning alive?” 

Armynda spoke casually, but Jyn knew her tone and the rigidly of her movements hid an immeasurable fury.

“A clever trick you pulled. But not clever enough. Search her.”

Jyn couldn’t even make an attempt at drawing her derringer-blaster. A Quarren bodyguard, whip in hand slammed a fist into her chest while his brother stripped her of all possible defenses. Beneath her, Jyn’s traitorous legs gave way and slammed into the rock. A shudder ran the length of her body, but her mouth and throat were still too raw to scream.

“Who asked you to kneel, darling? Not to me. Stand on your fucking feet.”

Armynda’s vicelike hands circled Jyn’s throat, dragging Jyn to stand. Legs like jelly, she could not support her own weight. Once again, she felt her life ebb slowly with strangulation. Those hateful tentacles framed her face, almost lovingly. Armynda’s beady eyes stared into her face, hungrily, as if cherishing every moment that Jyn suffered.

Through her pain, Jyn struggled to choke out final words worth memory. The words gurgled in her throat, mixing with blood.

“What was that, dear? I didn’t quite hear.”

“I should have known…I should have known…the devil doesn’t burn…”

Armynda cackled, then, the sound like a serrated knife carving Jyn’s spine from her flesh. 

“Did you really think the Empire would care so much about a colony of pacifists in the mountains? No, darling, I sent them after you. I told them to look out for you…”

“You think the Empire is any friend to you?”

“Keep your enemies close, Alydra,” Armynda leered a wicked, twisted smile that did not reach her eyes, “they destroyed my enemies, they helped me plot to destroy you. It’s only business, darling, and someday that partnership will end, too.”

“You think…you actually think that the Empire will let you live? What makes you any different than the Hutts in their eyes? Did you send them word that I was here? They’ll already be on their way…”  
Armynda shrugged.

“When you blew up my mine, I knew that my days with the Empire were numbered. Today’s as good a day as any to break our deal. I’ve got what I want. By the time they get here, you’ll be dead. Or, at least, your friends will be.”  
Jyn shook violently in her captor’s hands. To her shock, Armynda released her grip. Her children grabbed Jyn and yanked Jyn’s head back until she feared it might snap.

“Did you actually go clean, Jyn?”

“Yes,” Jyn spat at her captor. Jyn wasn’t much. She didn’t have much. But she did have that.

“Not for long.”

Armynda’s wicked grin turned frigid as she produced a needle from a pocket. 

“I wonder, how many of them will you kill before they turn on you?"

As the cold steel of the needle pierced her skin, Jyn willed herself to ignore the pure ecstasy of the spice, the rosy glow of high, the horrible, suffocating death that lurked below. But like so many times before, her will simply was not enough. 

Jyn Erso faded into the background as Alydra Alphard crawled forth from the ashes, reborn a thousand times more terrifying and destructive than ever before. Giving in felt seductive, easy: her skin felt warmer, more comfortable, not even Cassian’s touch could warm her like this. The pain ebbed away as pleasure flooded her system. It felt like welcome relief, shuttering out her panic and self-preservation.

Even as she fell once more out into dark space, hurtling down to the stone pit below, Jyn did not register the shock or the agony as her back collided with the floor. She recognized only the flames leaping just under her skin. She recognized the tell-tale pinpricks running up and down her legs but she ignored broken ribs and torn skin.

Jyn fought the spice as best she could, but she knew that ultimately, she was powerless against what would come.

_“How well do you know your own mind, Jyn Erso?”_

**“How may I serve you?”**

The reply escaped her lips against her own volition. In her final instant of rational thought, Jyn fixated upon the grenade hanging from Bodhi’s belt. It was too poetic, too heroic. Such a death, she knew through the haze, was too good for the likes of her.

“Kill your friends, Jyn Erso, one by one. Make them suffer.”

Through the thick red fog suffocating her senses, Jyn knew her only option. She released the switch of her grenade and clutched it to her chest. The beeping run distantly in her ears. Closing her eyes, she knew death would not wait for her again. Inexorably, she thought of Cassian, chasing through the ruins of Jedha to find her. 

“I love you.”

Would Cassian know it was meant for him? Did the others know it was meant for them, too? Before the explosion, before her life could be rent from her body, she dared to imagine another world, a happier world. She would wait for them there.

Just as the beeping grew absolute, counting down to total destruction, something heavy slammed into Jyn, knocking the grenade from her grip. In the bright blast from the detonation, Bodhi Rook’s face lit up. Jyn screamed his name, but it was too late. The air around them shattered with the force of the blast.

It knocked her back, bowling her over. Shrapnel tore into her skin, cleaving flesh from bone. Blood soaked through her tunic. She felt none of it. She felt none of it, not because of the spice, but because it was Bodhi’s face which had disappeared in a cloud of smoke and blood instead of her own. Her injuries were nothing, her orders were nothing. Nothing mattered.

Stumbling, she searched for Bodhi. Her feet slipped upon the ground. She found him, doubled over, clutching himself, looking almost untouched. When she turned him over, her stomach lurched and she retched: the fire from the grenade scorched his skin black and the shrapnel had nearly gutted him. Uselessly, his fingers closed over the gaping, seeping wounding, vainly trying to hold himself in. Jyn covered his hands in her own, shielding his body with her own, Jyn begged to be taken instead.

Her mind sprawled into free fall: everything she could feel or think or see was a mixed jumble of fractured, scattered memories. Lyra Erso, falling before her eyes; Saw Gerrera crushed beneath rubble; Cassian, tumbling from the archive tower; her father’s blood washed from her hands in the rain. It could’ve been a nightmare, comprised of every battle she’d ever fought in, every ally she’d ever felt slip through her fingers. But it wasn’t memory, it was her very own blood pooling on the floor.

She knew death: knew its icy, clamoring call as it reached for her. Many times she had brushed against it, pushed the limits of her own will to survive. Fate, luck, and Bodhi Rook always intervened time and time again. She reached for Bodhi’s hand. She wouldn’t let death take him first.


	25. The Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian must escape the pit and save Bodhi and Jyn, but he didn't count on old demons coming back.

_It ain't about your bitching or your devil's tongue_.  
 _I just wish that I was still the one_.  
 _Every single thought inside my head_.  
 _Telling me that this old heart is dead_.  
 _But I ain't got no brains in my heart_.

_But I got you_.  
 _In my veins, in my blood_  
 _I got you_  
 _Make me insane and boil my blood_  
 _Like there ain't no other love_  
 _Hearts aren't always red_.  
 _They're black and blue_.  
 _But I got you_.

_It ain't about the dishes or your piles of junk_.  
 _I'm just sick of you being drunk_.  
 _Every solitary bone inside of me_.  
 _Telling me that it's my time to leave_.  
 _But I ain't got no bones in my heart_.  
 _~I Got You (The White Buffalo)_.

Choking on scalding dust, Cassian screamed into the dark. All he knew was that Jyn and Bodhi disappeared in a red blast of light and fire. In that tremendous moment, he felt the seams of his own resolve tear apart, thread from thread. 

As he scrambled through the dark, he slipped over stone drenched in slick, warm liquid. She lay there, covering Bodhi as best she could with her slight frame. They might have been angelic if it weren’t for their twisted, jagged wounds. Her tunic soaked through with their shared blood; Bodhi’s face was so mangled that Cassian would not have known for certain, if not for the fact that Bodhi was the only person whom Jyn would protect like this. Cassian wretched upon the ground, unable to fight the acrid bile that rose in his throat.

He could allow himself only a second for fear. He banished it as best he could. With deft hands, Cassian applied pressure to Bodhi’s abdomen, where the blood flowed thickest. With each pump of Bodhi’s heart, a fresh wave spilled out onto Cassian’s forearms. He called in the dark, begging Baze and Chirrut to help. He knew not if they were even still alive.

Out of the dark, two figures appeared beside him, kneeling down to his level. It wasn’t Baze or Chirrut or even Kaytoo, but Han Solo and Luke Skywalker, cut up and covered in soot, but otherwise alive. Without needing any urging, they bent down to Jyn and Bodhi, placing their hands where Cassian’s had just been. Han ripped strips from his own shirt and began to bind whatever he could reach; damp red spots began to seep through the thin material immediately. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. 

Cassian wrenched himself away from them, knowing that he was no healer and his skills were the only thing separating them from Armynda and the full might of the Empire. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he fully understood the rage that burned so brightly inside of Jyn. Thoughts of everything except revenge fell by the wayside.

Leaning heavily on Luke, Cassian hoped that the Force would be enough to propel them through the trapdoor to join the fight. Luke was unarmed, but Cassin’s blaster was still strapped to his side. In a rush of air Cassian and Luke jumped through the gaping pit to the surface above.

As soon as Cassian’s feet touched solid earth once more, he realized that Jabba’s palace had fallen into utter chaos. Out of the dust and the fire they sprung into the fray, expecting an unbalanced onslaught of Quarren smugglers. Instead, Cassian found Armynda’s cadre fighting new arrivals, dressed in ragged uniforms instead of the expect Stormtrooper armor. 

Leia stood at the head, a blaster firing upon the horde.

_Reinforcements._

Luke took off from his side, likely to locate his lightsaber. In the distance, Cassian could hear Kaytoo shouting his name. Instead of relief at their impending rescue, the urge to fight and to kill surged through his veins like a drug. He could hear it pounding in his ears, numbing him to the bedlam surrounding him. 

He searched for any weakness that he might exploit in the column of Stormtrooper-clad Quarren, but instead his gaze settled upon the lithe form of their leader in the back. 

_Cut off the head..._.

She screamed orders at her children, threw them bodily forward as the rebel forces closed in around her. The dead lay at her feet and she continued to back up, getting off the occasional shot as she ducked Leia’s blaster bolts.

Ignoring his better sense, ignoring his own self-preservation instincts, he charged forward. He felt the singe of passing bolts blistered his skin as they missed by inches; the momentary pain was nothing compared to the emptiness in his heart, the despair that threatened to overcome him. He shut all of it out, left it behind on the bloody floor on the rancor pit.

Cassian grabbed the nearest enemy and fitted the muzzle of his blaster under the helmet. Cassian ignored the fine red mist as the man’s body sank to his knees and thrashed upon the floor. In his peripheral vision, Cassian made out flashes of green as Luke took on several adversaries at once, slicing through them like butter.

It strengthened his resolve, reinforced his primal fury. Woe be to any man or woman who crossed his path now. Three, four, five…they all died at his hand, falling in his rampage. They added, one after the other, to the unknown numbers he’d left long ago in the past. When once he’d felt guilt for each death, now he felt nothing. He found a Quarren with a long, thin whip made of leather. Ignoring his own blaster, he wrenched the whip from its grasp. He ensnared the unlucky Quarren and tightened the noose about his neck, blind to the unfolding battle and his own exposed position. A few kicks later, that Quarren was also disposed of. 

Finally, she was within his sights. The woman, the thing, which had started it all. She towered above him, but he was tougher and faster. A single blast would be too easy for her, too quick. This time he would make sure that she stayed down.

He threw his full weight upon her, toppling her over and knocking the blaster from her grip. It skittered off out of sight, kicked away haphazardly by one of her retreating children. He sprawled on top of Armynda, twisting her wrists away, pinning her to the cold stone. With his free hand, he aimed punch after punch at her demonic face, determined to shatter her as she had shattered him.

He heard her shrieks, felt the impact as he slammed her head against the floor, savored the sick way her tentacles thrashed as Armynda gurgled and twitched. Her scaly skin tore at his skin, but if there was pain it did not register. Again and again and again he threw her down, until she no longer made a sound. Still, he did not slow his onslaught of violence until someone placed a small hand on his shoulder and spoke in a shaking voice.

“Cassian, stop.”

He unclenched his fingers from around her throat, letting her limp body drop. Her body was little more than viscera and pulp now, beaten into an unrecognizable, perverse shape. When he stepped away, he could not meet Leia’s eyes, but he felt their heat upon him. Something about the deadly silence of the room frightened him; made his stomach drop. 

He thought of Jyn and Bodhi and their twisted, destroyed bodies. Another bout of nausea overwhelmed his senses.

“Cassian, we need to get them out of here. Real Stormtroopers won’t be far behind…”

Lost in the dazed aftermath of bloodlust, Cassian watched, detached, as the rebel soldiers lifted Bodhi and Jyn out of the pit, with the aid of Kaytoo who lifted them up into waiting arms. Jyn, wrecked and rent, was lain out before him, followed by Bodhi. His unbridled fury disappeared in the instant that he saw them, replaced instead by a torrent of grinding agony. Cassian’s heart beat inside his chest, threatening to break free.

He raised his hands to his face, those hands drenched in blood and bile and grime. Hands that killed and would kill again, but hands that could never save those he truly loved. He would trade anything—anything at all—to live outside his own body, to abandon his suffering. Cassian never understood Jyn’s need to run until the moment he too ran away. 

 

The loathsome din of cantina music bothered him once, but now Fulcrum felt in his element. He’d downed four or five drinks of fiery red liquor, enjoyed a shot or two with strangers at the bar, and puffed on a strange cigarillo offered by a Twi’lek whore. He lounged in a shadowy booth, in the furthest corner of the bar, eyeing the door and resting his fingers upon his blaster. 

If any of the denizens of Mos Reimly were concerned with their new drinking companion, they did not show it. Smugglers and drifters, after all, were all too common in these hubs of villainy and debauchery and Cassian knew how to blend in. A thin man passed by his table, throwing a shy smile as a he passed. Something in that smile reminded Cassian of a friend.

_Bodhi? Bodhi Rook?_.

Cassian chased away the image by downing the rest of his drink. Bodhi Rook’s doppleganger was no different than any other con artist in the cantina. 

Every twenty minutes, he motioned for the bare-chested waitress to bring him another double shot of Corellian whiskey. When she brought his next drink, he let her hands trail over his shirt, let her lips brush his collar. He was too intoxicated, too fraught, too lost to even care about protesting. The chemicals flooded his senses, numbing his memory and easing the pain. 

The shifty crowds disappeared as she took his hand and led him to onto the floor. She writhed in his arms, pressing herself close, whispering nothing into his ear. Blurry faces danced past, frowning, grimacing, laughing. The world did not stop spinning when she led him from the cantina, through a door, up a staircase. The ragged floor spun, his head swimming in a sea of liquor as he followed her into a dingy, dark bedroom… 

 

He stumbled through the streets, distressed and deranged. He’d seen her, her face, the face he wanted to forget but couldn’t, her face when the waitress turned around. When she beckoned him closer he could only see Jyn Erso, the woman he had loved and betrayed. He’d shoved her away, ripped his shirt in his bid to get away, turned tail, kept running, desperate to escape his own thoughts. Hide. Run. Run from himself.

His chest burned. How long had he been running? He found that he did not much care. 

Step after step he chased the impossible. Turning a corner into a dark alley wedged between two brick buildings, he vomited into the dirt. The waitress’s cloying perfume clung to him, swirled around him. Vertigo overtook Cassian’s body, the world shifting below his feet. He hurtled into a wall, sinking to the ground inch by inch. Looking down, he found a small bag of red powder clutched in his fist. He could erase her, erase the betrayal, and erase the torment in a single instant.

He ripped it open, spilling its contents into his palm. Cassian, or whatever shell of a man he was now, could leave it all behind and become Fulcrum. Through the ecstasy and the anguish, he would never have to remember her again. But like an addiction, she resurfaced in his mind. Not her ruined bones and tattered skin, but whole and happy. In that instant, he knew that no amount of spice or liquor would chase away the ghost of Jyn Erso.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the delay! I'm working 6-7 days a week now. It's not really an excuse but believe me when I say that I am committed to finishing Extraordinary! I love you guys and it means a lot that you stick by me even when I can't update as much as I would like. Just about everything is written, it just takes a lot of time to pare it down/expand in places. Only a few more chapters left.


	26. Fallen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassian returns to Jyn on Hoth.

_You were the angel who fell._  
_But I'm not a winner, I'm just brilliantly bitter_  
_I'm sealed by my skin, but broken inside_  
_Angels are fragile and devils are hot_  
_And life is a masquerade_  
_Colors will blend and hearts will all mend_  
_Just tell me you were never afraid_

_I am the one who will never die young_  
_I am a martyr and I can not hide_  
_And I was the one who I felt so so sorry for_  
_But you are the one who is gone_  
_So will you save me a seat if I make it that far?_  
_Will you even know that I am the one?_  
_I will be old for the angels have told me_  
_That I will never die young._  
_~Never Die Young (Lori McKenna)_

Cassian Andor looked like hell. Already scruffy by nature, the debauchery of his missing four days left him looking much too worse for wear: his dark hair needed a wash, his clothes—stolen from a stumbling drunk in an alley—were rumpled and stained. After three days without proper nourishment, just booze and the Force knew what else, his leather jacket hung limply off his thin bones. 

It was late by the time he reached Hoth, flying in on the transport he’d stolen after fleeing Tatooine. He grimaced inwardly: even if he could come up with a halfway plausible explanation for why he’d absconded with it, he’d have to face Leia and Riekan and all the rest for his actions. Not to mention Jyn, if she was even still alive. Somehow, facing her was the most terrifying prospect of all, yet he could not stay away. 

He’d spent months and years trying to understand Jyn, trying to save her from herself. Typically Cassian, he thought, trying to fix others while ignoring the cracks within himself. Jyn Erso knew the destructive power she wielded, knew that her actions led to horrible conclusions. She knew it, so she tried to numb it. Cassian, when faced with violence in his own heart he could not contain or explain away, saw no choice but to run. Jyn Erso had always been better at killing, but she felt the deaths of innocents far more keenly than he could ever allow himself. Cassian, for all his years as a spy, felt the stab of guilt every time he pulled the trigger, but he could always rationalize death away, come up with a tidy explanation for why the good died with the bad. Knowing that he was capable of such destruction terrified him, and he could no longer ignore it. Fear and fault drove him away, but Jyn Erso brought him back. 

Landing on Hoth hadn’t tripped any warnings from what he could tell: the flight crew greeted him as usual. Due to the late hour, the landing pad had been less populated than usual. A small mercy. Even so, he would likely only have minutes before the entirety of the council or a security detail descended upon him. He should be quiet he told himself, stealthy; careful to avoid drawing too much attention or making too much of a scene. Cassian frequently found that “should” rarely applied where his feelings for Jyn Erso were concerned. 

He picked up the pace, making a beeline for the medical wing of Echo Base. Between Tatooine and Cheyenne, he had not been dressed for the frigid atmosphere of Hoth. His battered leather jacket did very little to keep out the chill, but as far as Cassian was concerned, he deserved the pain, cold as a blade carving his flesh. He could hardly feel it, however, over the dread that gnawed away at his sanity. 

As he raced through hallways, took turns too fast, skidded across the ice, he could only see flashes of what transpired on Tatooine: Jyn, dangling above, just out of his reach, Bodhi wrestling a grenade from her grasp, their blood dripping from his hands, their faces in a dusty cantina bar. 

At long last, Cassian arrived at the doors to the medical bay. A young man, probably not even out of his teens, stood guard outside. He looked exhausted, perhaps even fatigued enough to let Cassian pass without question. If Cassian was fortunate, he would not even need to strong arm the kid.

“Let me through, I’m here to see patients in the medical bay.”

“I have express orders to not let anyone pass, General Andor.”

_I don't have time for this._

“Why not?”

“I’m not authorized to give that information out, sir. Especially not to you.”

Cassian was blindsided by the amount of scathing dismissal in the tone. He’d secretly prayed that the rumors would only circulate amongst the highest echelons of the command. Clearly, he had misjudged. An entire squadron watched him brutally murder a woman and then turn tail and run before even checking on Jyn or Bodhi. Cassian shuddered inwardly, but didn’t have the time or patience for hurt pride. All that stood between him and his friends—his Jyn—was an upstart cadet and a pair of doors. 

“Word is they’re drawing up a court martial for you,” the man sneered.

“I don’t care if you fucking execute me right here as long as I see them first. Let me in.” 

“So you can see your dead girlfriend?”

All of Cassian’s worst fears came rushing back at once, overwhelming him. He was too late; he’d left her and lost her for the last time. He felt the nausea threatened again, felt his knees buckle. Guilt and shame kept him standing upright.

“When?”

The man laughed, evidently enjoying the anguish that Cassian couldn’t even hide.

Cassian’s voice sounded guttural to his own ears. His nerves were ragged, ripped, torn and blown away in the cold wind. What else had he to lose?

“What makes you think that brainwashed Erso bitch even—“

In a swift movement, Cassian picked up the scrawny man and slammed him up against the door.

“If you know what I did on Tatooine, then you know what I’m capable of,” the young man scoffed in Cassian’s face and tried to kick him. Cassian tightened his grasp and lifted the man higher until his flailing rattled the wall, “Want to try me?  
Are they alive?”

Fear flickered for a moment in his eyes, but then he smirked and nodded over Cassian’s shoulder.

“Take it up with the Princess.”

Sure enough, Leia Organa strode towards them, white robe billowing out behind her. Cassian dropped the man, who scurried off after a pointed stare from Leia. They stared for a moment, before Leia finally spoke, with a voice as rigid and unforgiving as the barren landscape.  
“Why?”

Her usually sharp voice remained level, unnerving him. He choked out what few words he could, aware of how loudly his heart beat against his chest. Desperate to escape, desperate to find Jyn and Bodhi. Desperate to make sure they were alive...

If he could just hold her one last time, tell her the truth, make his atonement, he might be able to make his peace.

“I’ve come back.”

“Funny, I can see that for myself. The question is, why should I even let you? You stole a transport, nearly stranding ten of my soldiers on Tatooine. You left them to die.”

Cassian could tell she wasn’t speaking of her soldiers. 

“You disappeared for days. They’ve been in and out of Bacta ten times each…Jyn hasn’t even woken up yet.”

“A coma?”

“Yes.”

“And Bodhi?”

Leia swallowed and looked away.

“We’re doing what we can to make him comfortable.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s dying, Cassian. He should have been dead before now, but he keeps hanging on. Dr. Mahuma thinks he’s waiting for Jyn to wake up. I think he’s waiting for something else."

“I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit. Court martial, exile, prison, work camp. Whatever the cost, I’ll pay. Just let me see them first, please.”

“I shouldn’t let you. I shouldn’t have let any of you, but I did. First Mon Mothma, now me. Fucking fools who put desperate faith in all of you. It’s our undoing, isn’t it? Hoping that Rogue One could save us all again,” Leia crossed her arms, and gazed out, not even seeing Cassian anymore. “But then you bring me miracle after miracle, even as I watch you kill yourselves for it…you destroyed the stockpile of spice, you killed the drug lord behind the trafficking, you brought Han and Luke back to me…”

Her face broke and she looked away. When finally her gaze returned, her face had softened. She looked a decade older.

“I can talk to Riekkan, maybe I can convince him your disappearance was planned…but I can’t guarantee it.” 

Stunned, Cassian needed a moment to catch up.

“Th—thank you, Princess. I don’t deserve it.”

“Maybe not, but she does. We can talk more in the morning, but for now, I think, you’re needed here more than with the council.”

Leia did not smile or give him a reassuring word, she simply left him alone in the cold and the dark with his guilt and his confusion. Quietly, he slipped through the double doors, ready to face his fate.

Immediately, his senses were greeted by the sterile scent of mint, barely concealing the darker stench of decay. Most of the beds were occupied by pilots and foot soldiers, battered and broken. At this late hour, however, most of them had been medicated and their thrashing, screaming, and weeping had died down considerably. 

He spotted them at the end of the row, in beds that had clearly been pushed closer together. 

_Baze or Kay?_

Both appeared to be sleeping, their faces calm and ashy. Bodhi’s hand extended out to her, as if he’d fallen asleep while holding her hand. Hot tears prickled in his eyes, but he rubbed them away.

Giant, looming industrial machines surrounded Jyn, multiple I.V.s pumped ominous glowing substances into her arms and wrists. Her skin was so pale that even from feet away, he could still spot her blue-purple veins gleaming like gossamer spiderwebs just beneath her skin. 

“I’ve seen her pretty bad, Cass, but this is definitely the winner.”

Bodhi’s eyes opened slowly. It seemed to take a moment for them to focus on Cassian, as if the very effort of opening them caused him pain. Cassian could tell that it was taking him a great deal of strength to remain lucid.  
“I wouldn’t let them give her pain meds.”

Bodhi, in contrast with Jyn, lay quite untouched. Cassian understood what that meant.

“I’m cut up bad, Cassian. The doctors won’t tell me anything, but I can tell. I just get more tired, every time it’s harder to wake up… and they won’t even waste bacta on me now.”

Cassian moved closer, reached for Bodhi’s hand without even thinking. He closed Bodhi’s fingers within his own and could feel the slightest pressure as Bodhi tried to return his grasp. 

“Don’t think about that, now.”

“You know, that Luke guy has been getting all the credit for the mission. Showoff. But I think people know the truth.” Bodhi managed a good-natured smile. Even now as he lay dying, he seemed to want nothing more than to comfort Cassian. “I thought you’d be here when I woke up. Top secret mission?”

Bodhi looked so earnest, so willing to give Cassian trust that he didn’t deserve. 

“Cowardice. If I had a scrap of what you’ve got, Bodhi, I’d be the one in that bed.”

His eyes flickers and he gasped, a hand clutching at his stomach. Bodhi choked and sputtered for a moment before Cassian found a handkerchief. Gently, he held it to Bodhi’s mouth as he coughed and hacked. When he spoke next, his voice sounded hoarser, weaker, as if each word caused him difficulty.

“She’ll forgive you. Eventually.”

_It should've been me. It should've been me._

“I never really thanked you, for Scarif.”

Bodhi ignored this. It was too late for thank yous or apologies. 

“You’ll take care of her, won’t you? The way I couldn’t? As much as she’ll let you? 

Cassian could only nod. Bodhi’s already tenuous hold slacked a little.

“Don’t let her mourn me too long. She’s…suffered…enough—”

Bodhi’s coughing fit became so violent that Cassian supported his back, holding on for dear life. When he pulled the handkerchief away, he saw that it had soaked through with blood. Bodhi settled back against his pillow, so still and silent that Cassian feared he had spoken his last. 

Cassian kept his vigil long into the night. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—abandon Bodhi now. Bodhi saved them twice over. First, he had rescued them from the firestorm on Scarif. He had bought them a few days of happiness and years of loneliness. Now, Bodhi paid for their future with his own life. For Cassian could see now; the only way they could survive this loss would be to rely on each other. It wouldn’t be easy—neither Cassian nor Jyn ever did easy—but maybe Bodhi had known all along what they could not admit.

“Cassian…”

Under the thin blanket, Bodhi’s chest began to rise and fall more quickly. His breathing sounded laboured; it would not be long now. Cassian, even with his agnostic faith, begged the Force for just a little more time. Bodhi spent the last years of his life risking everything, always, to protect Jyn, to fight for the rebellion, to do just a little bit of good in a wretched world that didn’t deserve him. If anyone deserved just a few more moments, it was Bodhi Rook. Cassian could tell however, with each beleaguered breath, that Bodhi’s moments drew rapidly to a close.

Huskily, through chapped lips, Bodhi tried to speak. 

“I miss Jedha…”

Bodhi began to cry silently. Cassian couldn’t handle that, his own tears already flowed too freely to be wiped away. 

“Will you take me home?” 

“We can go as soon as you and Jyn are better. Hell, maybe we can go tomorrow. It’s not that long of a trip, and Baze and Chirrut and Kay would want to go, too…”

Bodhi smiled at this, casting his eyes upward. Cassian felt that Bodhi already belonged beyond them all, beyond the sky and the stars, maybe even to the Force itself. 

“What will we do?”

Cassian ignored the catch in his own voice, ignored the way that Bodhi’s breathing became more rapid, more shallow.

“We’ll pack everything, sneak out when Leia and the council are asleep…it’ll be like old times. We’ll rebuild it all, Bodhi, the seven of us together. We can all live together, if Jyn and Kay don’t kill each before we’ve gotten the chance…”  
Cassian tweaked Bodhi’s ponytail, and Bodhi winced. Worried he had unintentionally hurt him, Cassian bent down. 

"Did I hurt you?"

Bodhi shook his head and beckoned Cassian.

“Tell Jyn…” Cassian leaned closer, until Bodi’s face was only an inch from his ear. “Tell…tell..her I’m sorry …” 

Cassian pulled away in time to see Bodhi’s bright eyes flicker out, like the snuffing of a candle’s flame. He should call a doctor, call Leia, call anyone. Instead, he wanted to share just a little more time with the man who did so much for so very little. Bodhi Rook was dead, and yet the Galaxy had not ground to a halt. Strangers would not be mourning him or singing songs for him. No statues would be erected here, no posthumous medals given out, but all of that would pale in comparison anyway, for Cassian knew the truth, knew what Bodhi Rook had meant, and would never forget again.


	27. Destructive Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn and Cassian try to reconcile, but Bodhi's death still hangs between them.

_Wish you would've told me,_   
_While I was young._   
_When I had space to fill,_   
_And someone to become._   
_Oh, oh._   
_Cause darlin' I'm beside myself,_   
_And I don't think that you_   
_Know which of me,_   
_You are talkin' to._   
_I'm tired of tryin' to make it up to you_   
_Sweeping the ashes and hidin' truth._   
_I'm tired of pretending everything's alright._   
_Let me feel, let me feel what I'm feeling tonight._   
_Wish I coulda stopped you, before you left._   
_Was a lesson that you left behind instead._   
_~Serena Ryder (Sweeping the Ashes)_

_I should go weeks without sleep more often._

Jyn’s first, fleeting thought upon waking was quickly dispelled, however, by the piercing revelation that her charred throat burned hideously. She opened her mouth to scream, but the pain that rose to meet her took all sound from her. It was as if some revolting creature clawed and crawled its way through her body, wrecking her with its talons in its cruel ascent.

She would have liked to remain slumbering for a long while; the cocoon of fresh sheets, the nearby scent of musk and oil and cheap cologne that felt familiar, almost like…almost like home. Once upon a time, the lingering hint of him had infuriated her, even sickened her. Now, she was so desperate to be near him, to see him, to hold him, even, that she fought through the fog and the black of the cave. It took a tremendous force of will to open her eyes. 

Shaking her head to clear the last of the fog, Jyn stretched languidly in the sheets. Immediately, a searing pain shot through her stomach and chest. She clenched her jaw and defiantly sat up. The all-too familiar scene of the medical bay swam in her eyes, cutting a dizzying arch through the air. She wanted nothing more than to fall back against her pillow. 

Still, she fought her urge. She surveyed the room as best she could, finding Cassian nearby, head bowed and upped in his hands, as if he were sleeping. His shoulders moved ever so slightly, rising and falling, yet only the smallest sounds escaped from him. Beside him, Bodhi slept soundly. 

For the briefest moment, her face lit up; Bodhi lay so deceptively peacefully in death that she was fooled. She saw no trace of blood, only the sweet, humble smile he always wore for her. In a flash she remembered: a grenade, an explosion, Bodhi’s face lit up in the dark. With a strangled cry, she tore herself from the comfort of her bed onto the cold, sterile floor. 

_No. It can’t be._

Upon touching the skin of my hand with her own, however, Jyn knew the truth. The life in her own eyes flickered, all warmth gone from them. Wordlessly, she took his limp hand with her own and pressed it to her lips; the smallest gesture that would certainly have meant the world to him not long ago. The thought of Bodhi, sweet and good, so silent and serene flooded her with anger and anguish in equal measure. There was no one she could kill, no revenge to take to settle this score; Jyn Erso was all alone with a lifetime of regret and she dare not dull the pain. 

She couldn’t even make a sound. Instead, she simply put her head against his still chest and let it wash over her. Jyn’s slight frame shook with the weight of her loss, a loss that she could not even articulate through her destroyed throat. She wanted nothing more than to wail and keen and sob, but try as she might, no matter how hard she cried or her body heaved, the sound would not come. Each sound she made came out choked; eerie, inhuman. 

If begging, if pleading, if sacrificing her own life then and there could have breathed life back into Bodhi Rook, Jyn would have done it all. What use was it? What good was there in creating a new, better world if Bodhi would not be there to enjoy it?

Jyn felt strong arm encircle her and draw her close. She cried herself out into the nook of Cassian’s shoulder, even as she felt his own body racked by shared grief. Jyn let herself cling to him, she let herself need him. Bodhi left her with a terrible chasm in her very soul, far worse than any overdose or physical wound. It would’ve been the simplest, quickest fix to seek out a way to hide, seek out a remedy in the prick of the needle but she could not. To do so would be to numb his memory, when Jyn knew that she would never forget. 

He had left her before she even awoke. As she drifted on the tides of sleep, he drifted away. In the depths of her agony Jyn knew the answer why: had he lingered long enough for her to wake, he would have fought with every ounce of his strength to stay with her. He would have tortured himself to stay with her just a little longer, ease her suffering, postpone her self-imposed destruction. Bodhi should have flown away on Scarif and left her to die. How differently would his life have turned out had she not invaded his life and ruined all that was good about him?

From a distance, as if she existed outside of herself, Jyn realized that Cassian was stroking her hair. A fresh wave of emotion gripped her and she held him tighter. It was some time before she pulled away, after she suddenly became privy to someone else’s presence in the room. Hoping for the sympathetic ear of Dr. Mahuma, instead she was greeted by the hostile sneer of a young guard who watched them with contempt.

“Are you finished?”

Jyn wiped a bandaged hand across her red-rimmed eyes and shifted away from Cassian. Cassian spoke for her.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I have orders to restrain the patient. Seems that the Council thinks she’s a risk to herself as well as others.”

“Who gave that order? You do realize that I sit on that Council? Do we need to repeat our earlier conversation? Do I need to remind you? I’m still General to you.”

The guard looked unperturbed at the implied threat, but he had yet to make eye contact with Jyn personally.

_Remind him of what?_

His eyes flickered over to Jyn and she registered a moment of fleeting worry before he returned his attention to Cassian.

“Not anymore, Andor. You can’t touch me. Rieekan just stripped you of your rank. Or haven’t you heard? At any rate, tell your woman to get back in bed before I make her.”

To Jyn, Cassian looked decades older than when they had first met. He did not shrug his shoulders or settle back into his chair. Instead, he rose to his full height and blocked Jyn from the guard.   
“You won’t touch her. Not now, not ever,” he stooped low, wrapping her in his arms. Jyn felt light as a wisp of cloud. She didn’t want to leave Bodhi, but she knew she must. 

“Enjoy your court martial, fucker.” the guard tossed casually at Cassian as the man strode away.

“Inform Dr. Mahuma that Bodhi Rook has died. Tell General Leia and General Rieekan that their problem lies with me, not Jyn. They know where to find me.”

 

He set her gently down upon their bed before sitting down himself. Jyn watched him struggle with the laces of his combat boots. Usually, his fingers moved deftly, but now they quivered with grief and guilt. Inching closer, she took the laces in her own hands and untied them quickly. One by one, she helped him out of his boots and socks and threw them in a pile on the floor.

The tired thud as they dropped hung in the chilly air between them. Jyn urged herself to speak. To her own ears, it sounded unnatural and choked. 

“Court…martial?”

Cassian nodded, resting his head in his hands.

“I left. After the battle, after we’d won…” 

Jyn looked at him and reached out to calm his trembling hands. In another life, she might have been furious. She might have kicked him out, set him ablaze. She would want to shatter him for leaving her, for leaving Bodhi. But still, she could understand, perhaps better than she ever had before. She spent her entire life running, after all. 

“I saw what that grenade did to you and Bodhi and I couldn’t take it. Something broke inside of me and I couldn’t control myself. I killed Armynda with my hands, Jyn. I’ve never done that before. I’ve killed so many people but I’ve never felt like an animal doing it. I couldn’t control myself and when I saw what I’d done…I knew I couldn’t watch you die.”

Jyn drew her knees up to her chest, resting a cheek against them, twisting her face to fight the impending tears.

“So…you…ran.”

“Yeah,” he whispered as he stared down at his lap, “but I couldn’t stay away, not for long. I tried to block it out the way you use to, but it didn’t matter. I faster I ran, the more I remembered. I almost took spice, Jyn.”

She could almost taste it on the tip of her tongue. She could almost feel it flowing through her veins, drowning her grief and agony in a cloud of red mist. Jyn craved the escape, the blindness, the horrific bliss. She would give anything—anything—to disappear into nothing as she had before. But the red mist congealed to blood on her hands. A sick feeling warped her gut as she battled the impending need to retch. That was a path she could not return to, however much the need gripped her.

“Were you with him? With Bodhi?”

“I watched him go. I don’t know if I have ever seen that before,” he correctly himself quickly, “I’ve seen men die, more than I would care to count. But I don’t know if I have ever seen the light just…go out.”

“You left us?”

“I have never regretted anything more in my life.”

His eyes beseeched her, searching her face desperately. She could see that his face was similarly mottled red.

"He left me."

Cassian did not say a word. His shoulders slouched, as if every movement caused him immeasurable pain. She yearned to rid of the pain. If she could, Jyn would gladly take it all from him. She hated the heavy ache, but at least she felt. It would be a disservice to Bodhi if she did not allow herself each moment.

"It was you he was thinking about, you and Jedha. He said he was sorry."

It would also be a disservice to Bodhi if she did not let herself reach out, risk everything for the glimmer of happiness which evaded Jyn for her entire life. Jyn, always impulsive, moved slowly. It hadn’t been long since they’d been together, but this time felt different. Their hearts were so battered that she feared quick movements might break them completely. Her heart beat against her chest like the timid wings of a small bird as she reached out a small hand to his cheek. Tentatively, she drew him close and pressed the smallest kiss upon his mouth. 

It was not the wild, shocking kiss from their first night together, nor the desolate kiss they shared in her desert flat. It was her promise, her swear upon the Force itself, upon the life of Bodhi Rook, that she would love him for the rest of her life. 

 

She’d hated leaving alone in the bed. They had not done much, they couldn’t do everything she would’ve liked. Cassian had been careful with her, only kissing her where she wasn’t stitched, burned, or bruised. Somehow, the time they had shared felt more personal, more intimate than any of their other numerous encounters. In her very soul, Jyn prayed that it would be a new beginning for them both. It was beautiful and desperate, a last ditch attempt to beat back death.

Before slipping out the door, she brushed a lock of his dark hair away from his forehead. Cassian looked younger and innocent in sleep, somehow. He almost looked the child that he might have been at six; untroubled and at peace. But after enough time passed, she’d felt sure that she could roam for a small while at least. Tonight, however, she suspected that she would not find a lone Leia in the hallways. The princess would be much too busy sleeping in the arms of her beloved scoundrel.

Jyn neither moved gracefully nor quickly. As she made her way, she tried not to drag her left leg too much on the icy ground. Dr. Mahuma would certainly not approve of this nighttime jaunt, but Jyn was never very good at following strict rules. A rebel, not a soldier.

In spite of her wounds, her legs were strong; someday, she might walk again without pain. Someday, she might move without hobbling. The physical wounds would heal, stitch by stitch, bruise by bruise, until her body scarred over completely. Jyn’s struggle wouldn’t be the broken bones and shattered shell. 

Eventually she found herself outside Chirrut and Baze’s door. Just before she tapped upon it, however, she stopped for a moment to listen. Though the door was strong durasteel, she could still make out the tiniest sounds from behind it. Muffled though it was, it sounded like a deep rumbling. Pressing an ear closer, she strained to listen.

“It’s all right…it’s all right…”

At first, she assumed that Baze must be comforting a grief-stricken Chirrut. To her dismay, however, she realized that Baze must be making the low, muffled bellow. Suddenly, she did not feel like eavesdropping. It was too familiar, almost indecent, to be spying upon their sorrow. 

_I caused it._

Fatigue crept up upon her weak body. Sinking to the ground, she let her head rest against the door and her legs stretch out upon the ground. The minutes ebbed away until the quiet crying abated and silence surrounded her once more. It was a long walk back to her quarters. 

Behind her, the door opened suddenly, causing her to lose her balance. Chirrut stood before her.

“You could have knocked,” a wistful smile played on his face as he helped her to her uneasy feet, “does Cassian know you’re here?”

“No…” she admitted sheepishly, following him into the room. Baze slept soundly under a pile of scavenged blankets and quilts. 

In the short time they had lived there, one of them—she assumed Chirrut—had taken to decorating the walls with odds and ends that he had managed to salvage from all the places he had lived; a torn tapestry, perhaps from Jedha, a large scrap of charred canvas, perhaps from a tent. 

“What were you looking for?”

He handed her a cup of warm kaf, she gulped it down gladly. The hot drink beat back the cold, breathing life back into her aching body. At his beckon, she situated herself on the edge of Chirrut and Baze’s bed, careful not to disturb Baze’s slumber.

Speaking still posed a problem for Jyn. Her conversation with Cassian earlier had sapped most of her strength. She took to forcing words out, hoping that Chirrut might piece together her meaning.

“Do you ever…think that you might be…damned?”

Chirrut shook his head adamantly.

“You aren’t damned, Jyn Erso. I wouldn’t allow that.” 

“Even if the Force wills it?”

“The Force understands better than anyone, the way we struggle between the light and the dark.”

“When have you ever…been tempted by the dark?”

Chirrut smiled a little sadly, and Jyn could have sworn he saw the flicker of regret in those solemn grey eyes.

“What is it that you want, Jyn Erso? Why do you run?”

“On Lah’mu, when I was a child, I would spend hours skipping over…rocks in the streams. I’d fall…hurt myself, but keep doing it.” Jyn closed her eyes, almost able to picture the slippery stones beneath her feet. She spoke slowly, carefully, trying not to trip over the words. “I think I’ve become that rock. Try as I might, everyone I love breaks eventually. I never wanted…to inspire destructive love.”

“No, you didn’t. You have the chance, now, to try again. But if that is what you seek, it is not me that you should be talking to.”

Jyn nodded and set aside her cup. She would return to Cassian’s side very soon. For now, though, there was one final stop she intended to make before the morning sun crept over the snow hills and glaciers. 

 

Bodhi’s room felt too bare, almost as if he had never lived there at all. Jyn could not feel him there, not in his lonely room that he slept in alone. Moment by moment, memory by memory, would he quietly slip away forever? The bed was neatly made, no dirty laundry littered the floor, no trash piled up in bins. If it weren’t for his coveralls hanging limply over a chair and his goggles resting upon the desk, she might have thought that sanitation droids already cleared out his quarters for the next occupants.

She searched the flaps and pockets of the worn garment, hoping for some small balm for her soul. She traced edges and seams, hoping beyond hope for anything of Bodhi’s she might cling to. As Jyn inspected an inside lining, her fingers came across a slight bump in the fabric, too stiff to be the warp and weft. Evidentally, Bodhi took some hints from Cassian in subterfuge. Lacking a blade, she gripped the patch with her teeth and pulled. The material gave way instantly, ripping open. A small device tumbled out into the palm of her hand.

The holoprojector felt frigid in the palm of her hand, so cold she feared that it might not work any longer. Upon the press of a button, however, she discovered that it remained functional. The seconds ticked by as Jyn averted her gaze. Finally, she willed herself to view the image she knew she would find: 

Displayed before her was a blue-toned holo of the night of Cassian’s birthday, mere days after Scarif and just before the Death Star. Jyn stood in the middle of two much taller men: a grinning Cassian and a sheepishly drunk Bodhi. One of her arms was slinked around Cassian’s shoulder, the other linked with Bodhi’s. Shyly, Bodhi was pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. They were frozen in time in front of her, as they had once been.

She simply sat and stared, remembering their brief, joyous respite. The two men looked on her with an awe she did not deserve. Time passed slowly as she stared at their young faces. Jyn could barely recognize herself: was this not the beginning of her affair with Cassian? Did she not go to bed with him later that very night? She was fairly certain she had danced cheek to cheek with Bodhi and Cassian both, shared an entire bottle of Correllian whiskey and a few cigarillos, teased Bodhi mercilessly. On that night, she’d allowed herself to feel alive. She hadn’t numbed herself dull with spice. They were all she’d needed then. 

The sun began to come up on Hoth before the holo blinked weakly a few times and died. Still, she grasped it in her palm, unwilling to set it away. But, the presence of another figure in the room distracted her. By the door, Cassian leaned against the wall.

“He would want us to be happy.”

“Yeah, more than anything.”

“If I asked you to run with me, would you?”

Cassian met her teary gaze. She found his eyes warm, neither judgmental nor angry.

“I’ve done enough running lately.”

“But would you…for me?”

Cassian crossed the room and knelt before her.

“Where you go, I follow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter guys. I apologize again for the wait. I'm aiming for a week at the most until the final chapter is up, it's written but I keep working on it. Honestly, writing these last few chapters is the most emotionally draining thing I've ever had to do. Thanks for sticking by me, I couldn't have finished this without your support <3


	28. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of the "Extraordinary" saga.

_Let me in the wall, you've built around_  
_And we can light a match and burn it down_  
_Let me hold your hand and dance 'round and 'round the flame_  
_In front of us_  
_Dust to dust_  
_You've held your head up_  
_You've fought the fight_  
_You bear the scars_  
_You've done your time_  
_Listen to me_  
_You've been lonely, too long_

_You're like a mirror, reflecting me_  
_Takes one to know one, so take it from me_  
_You've been lonely_  
_You've been lonely, too long_  
_We've been lonely_  
_We've been lonely, too long_  
_~Dust to Dust (The Civil Wars)_

**A Note from the Journal of General Leia Organa Solo**

Unlike others I might name, I did not feign shock when Jyn Erso left us in the dead of night. Nor did I pretend that her actions offended me, even though she took a rebel vessel and disappeared into the black. Though she only returned to us briefly, I think a part of me always knew that she would leave once again as soon as her work was complete: some souls stay restless. Her fighting for us was complete and her atonement absolute. 

As far as I can tell, Jyn Erso made no goodbyes. Everyone who loved her left with her. Does she still underestimate the force of her humanity, even now? While her departure was not surprising, I must admit that I underestimated General Andor’s devotion to her. Foolishly, I thought that because he had chosen us once, that he might do so again. I spent the entire night drafting an argument in his defense, something, anything that might shake the Council’s resolve to punish him for temporary weakness. Han certainly wasn’t happy with me that night. I cannot help but wonder, would Han abandon everything for me? Could I do the same for him, or for Luke?

They left no missive, no note, no indication of where they went or how far they all intended to travel. In my dreamier moments, I like to believe that no matter where she ended up, that she finally found a sliver of the peace she’s run from her entire life. But that probably isn’t really Jyn, is it? She will be off causing trouble. Wherever she is, whatever havoc she is wreaking, I hope that she is happy.  
I do not think that Jyn Erso ever felt the need to linger where she wasn’t needed; she certainly never desired the glory and notoriety that her heroism truly deserves. How much had she suffered on our behalf in her short life? What might she have become had we not stripped it all away from her? Those thoughts haunted Mon Mothma. I fear that I will go to my grave wondering the same. I could pace the halls of this base for years and never find the answers I seek or the one person I might ask.

I would never claim to be her confidant, or even a friend, but I knew enough of the woman to tell that hers is a spirit that will never settle. Our lives intersected only briefly, yet I cannot help but feel that we will meet again. 

 

Cassian kept his promise to Bodhi Rook.

The scent of the New Jedha market welcome Cassian as he moved through the fair; myriad scents danced merrily through the air, tickling his nose with their honeyed succor. He could nearly taste the frying squid on the open grills, feel the dust that whipped up around his ankles in the cool Jedha wind. Mongers stood at their carts, hawking their wares to all who passed. One merchant heartily accosted Cassian, offering him a bottle of fine Corellian gin. Shaking his head, Cassian slipped away. He only had eyes for the woman whom he followed into the throng, careful not to drop the quilt which he held securely under one arm.  
Even after all the years since they had first met, he still found himself distracted by the way she moved through a crowd. She slipped easily between strangers, narrowly avoiding elbows and legs as she nimbly ducked and weaved. Every so often, she’d turn and smile at him then duck away before he could catch her hand. One instant he’d be admiring the He was always just slightly behind, unable to quite catch her despite his pursuit. She loved to disappear right as he caught up to her, skidding off, pushing herself between two pilgrims dressed in billowing red capes. The fluttering at their hems was the only indication that she passed, but it was enough for Cassian to follow. 

He marveled at the change in her, and the change in himself. When first they’d arrived, she’d barely left their tent. The anonymity of Jedha had helped her, he thought. The ragtag community of believers, vagabonds, and the forgotten migrated to the once bustling city. Perhaps they, like Jyn and Cassian, were trying to start over, create something out of the ashes of their lives.

Fortunately, they didn’t question the odd group of strangers who arrived one cold, bright morning. They didn’t ask for names, or stories, or reasons how or why, they simply accepted them with open arms. And when the new arrivals began making a funeral pyre for a fallen friend, they donated their firewood.

Within days, they had quietly moved into a row of tents on the outskirts of the camp. For a while, the newcomers did not mingle with the wanderers. Instead, the little group preferred their solitude, at least for a time. The little woman, especially, kept her distance. Soon, however, Chirrut was cooking stew for everyone and Kaytoo stopped grumbling about sand disrupting his circuitry.  
They fell into the routine of the camp: up before dawn, hauling stone from the quarry to lay the foundation of the new temple; at noon, a shared meal, at night; gathering for companionship. Still, Jyn remained hidden away, even from Cassian. On the rare occasion when she appeared, just briefly in the mouth of her tent, she would be wrapped in a poncho much too big for her small frame. She kept her head down, surveying the work of the others silently before disappearing once more.

While the others toiled under the sun and in the dust, Jyn Erso slept. Cassian knew that she did not want to linger so long in bed, but she understood that some days it was impossible to gather the strength to rise. Perhaps she, like Cassian, had hoped that leaving the rebellion, leaving everything behind, might cure her of the gaping ache in her chest. Sleep was the only respite that she knew, work became the only respite that Cassian knew. Cassian would return late in the evening, smelling of sweat and ash, collapsing next to her. No matter his own exhaustion, he would always press a kiss to her cheek, whisper “I love you”, and fall asleep with his arms around her.

Some nights, she kept her back turned away from him. Not to hurt him, of course, but to hide her tears. Other nights she threw herself at him with a fierceness that almost shocked him. Mourning was a strange thing.

Slowly, day by day, Cassian Andor coaxed back Jyn out into the world. One night, after the rest of the camp had long drifted back to their tents, he shook her awake from their blankets. Wearily, she took his offered hand and followed him out into the night.

“Follow me, Jyn.”

Lighting a torch, he led the way through camp until they were mere feet away from a newly erected base of stone and rock. Though its construction looked crude and uneven in the firelight, Jyn appreciated the labor it must have taken to build. She allowed herself the smallest twinge of guilt for not participating.

“I wanted to show you before the others,” Cassian whispered and drew her close into his arms. In the flickering light thrown by his torch, he pointed out a small inscription etched into the center stone.

_In memory of Bodhi Rook_  
_Friend & Hero_

Without even registering the movement, Jyn’s knees sank to the dirt. Kneeling beside her, Cassian took her hands in his own. 

“He didn’t deserve to live in this galaxy. He deserved better,” Jyn said weakly, feeling the ground spin around her. She fixed her gaze on Cassian, steadying herself. He had cupped her face in his worn hands.  
“You’re right. He deserved to live in the world we’re going to rebuild together.”

In the old days, Cassian banished old memories from his mind, or he tried to. Now they all swirled together, happy and melancholy memories mixing with the dirt and dust. From the the corner of his eye, he spotted a flash of dull blue tunic amongst the red and brown robes. Through the bustle of bodies, he followed, nearly upending a cart of sweet-smelling cloudberries. 

Cassian dived past and cornered the blue-clad offender before they could escape. 

“Did you really think you’d escape from your parents that easily?”

Rookie Andor, barely six years old, glanced sheepishly from his mother to his father. 

“Yes?”

Jyn looked very much like she was trying not to laugh before she scooped up her son and handed him off to Cassian, offering a knowing smile.

Cassian Andor had taken surprisingly well to fatherhood, Jyn Erso, on the other hand, required a bit more convincing. 

“You trust _me_ to raise a child?”

She’d asked him that in a teasing tone the first time he had broached the subject. Cassian knew her well enough to realize the undercurrent of self-doubt hiding in the self-deprecation. Her scars had healed, mostly, but she still favored long sleeves and rarely spoke these days about her years spent on the run. Whenever the dark shadows brewed storms behind her eyes, he’d kiss her, tease her, and do everything in his power to bring her back into the light.

In return, she did the same whenever he remembered the rebellion and his own many crimes. It was a balancing act for them both; when one threatened to tip over and tumble down into the chasm, the other would pull them back from the brink. 

After little Rookie came, however, they had rather less time to contemplate their own failings and troubles. To the delight of both of his parents, he inherited neither Jyn’s anger nor Cassian’s propensity for gloom. Even Kaytoo begrudgingly admitted that although Jyn wasn’t good for much, her son was truly a delight. Chirrut and Baze, by the same token, took to spoiling him behind his parents’ backs with tokens and secret fighting lessons. The rest of the community also took it as their personal mission to foster Rookie Andor’s mischief. It wasn’t long before he spent his days skirting in between stalls in the market; pilfering sweet treats to pass along into the hands of New Jedha’s other children. 

Over the years, word of the thriving enclave spread among the other nomads of the galaxy, who arrived to New Jedha with little more than the clothing on their backs. But they, like _Rogue One_ and the original inhabitants, were willing to pitch in their talents and build something that if not as remarkable or grand as the Holy City had been, then something that could be called home.

The temple, once the spot of pilgrimage and religious fervor, had become something of a gathering place for the community. Some prayed or left offerings, but many simply came to enjoy time with their families and friends. 

Rookie climbed out of Cassian’s arms, perching instead on his father’s shoulders. A full head above the crowd, Rookie gazed in amazement at the host of people, some he knew, some he didn’t, who had gathered at the temple for rituals and festivities. Spreading out their quilt upon the dust, Cassian set his son down to play.

“Papa, can you tell me a story?”

Lazily, Cassian leaned back and rested his head in Jyn’s lap. 

“Which story would you like to hear?”

“Tell me about Bodhi Rook!”

“But you’ve heard his stories a million times.”

In truth, Cassian never shied away from telling Rookie about his namesake. In most cases, however, he had done so tactfully out of Jyn’s earshot. Though time healed most of her wounds, he knew that there were days when his loss still weighed heavily upon her. Rookie was almost old enough now to understand why. 

“You don’t want to upset your mama, now.”

“Papa!”

“Oh, relent why don’t you? He won’t stop till he’s heard what he wants.”

For a second, he feared that she was not ready to hear the story repeated. It could hurt her, but Jyn caught Cassian’s eye and smiled. Cassian felt a sharp pang in his chest; she reminded him of the girl trapped forever in Bodhi’s holo. 

“I like the stories better when your mama tell them,” Cassian said with a small wink up at his wife, “wouldn’t you say?”

Jyn heaved a theatrical sigh and beckoned her son closer, as if conspiratorially. 

“Which story do you want to hear?” 

“When Bodhi saves your life!”

Sitting cross-legged, eyes wide in rapt attention, Rookie stared intently at his parents.

“Which time?” Cassian asked, his voice full of mock seriousness.

“That time on Scarif! With the Death Star plans!”

Jyn fiddled with the hair at Cassian’s brow. She closed her eyes, and Cassian knew full well that she wasn’t just searching for the proper words to begin the tale. Jyn was also looking for the strength to tell it and to tell it well. Cassian pressed the smallest kiss to her hand, urging her on.

“Well, it all started with this insane mission, and a man who called himself the pilot…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I can't begin to express what a joy and a what a challenge it's been writing this. I hope I did Jyn, Cassian, and _Rogue One_ justice. May the Force of Others be with you  <3


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